College Days: The First Semester
by WesUAH
Summary: The creation of Drakken's Legacy, and Kim Possible begins life after high school. Other forces, though, conspire against her. Part of the Legacy Universe.
1. Seniority

Author's note: Kim Possible is owned by Disney, not by me. And yes, I know a part of this is a blatant rip of "As Sitch in Time."

Since I forgot this at the last upload, thanks to G-Go and willk1989 for the mad props on "The Fallen". Go check out Will's "Everlasting Love" trilogy (currently a WIP) and G-Go's "Reunion" and "Union" fics. You will not be disappointed.

* * *

_Io sono prigionièra/My fate is in your arms tonight/Though love is shining in your eyes/Will you be mine tomorrow? – 'Eternity', English version of 'Adèsso e Fortuna', from 'Record of Lodoss War'_

**Chapter 1 – Seniority**

It was a warm, spring Saturday, one of the few that Kim and Ron would have free before Senior finals. Some high schools, of course, would allow their Seniors to opt out of taking finals; Middleton High was not one of those schools, given Mr. Barkin's oddly prevalent influence on school policy. Admittedly, there was a certain logic behind it: no college would allow anyone, Senior or otherwise, to opt out of finals, and _real life_ certainly had no such provisions.

Still, logic never stopped teenage grumbling. Only a proper distraction could do that, and Kim and Ron had found a truly worthy distraction from Senior Year Stress in each other.

There hadn't really been much change between them, on the surface at least, since the Junior Prom. They still hung out together, walked together in school (when schedules permitted it, of course; they heydays of the Sophomore Year Schedule were far behind them), spent Friday nights and weekends together, went on missions together... still doing all the things they had done _before_ they had started dating.

Except now... they would hold hands in the school halls, instead of just walking side by side. There were little looks and touches that they would give each other, that would keep the other walking on cloud nine for the rest of the day. Those little things, along with the look in their eyes when they beheld each other, were what told everyone around that, no matter what had been between them earlier, they were well nigh _in love_, and woe unto the man or woman who tried to come between them.

Like anyone would, of course; there was a small percentage of the school that didn't really believe the explanation that Erik had been a synthodrone, and suspected that Ron had somehow "done away with" his competition. A favorite theory involved cooperation from Dr. Possible (male) and black holes.

But that had been a year ago; now, the rumors had all faded into humorous memory. In fact, the only problems had come from Bonnie, who seemed to have a complete inability to be happy at the same time as Kim, and Brick, who's friendly what-did-you-two-do-over-the-weekend-wink-wink-nudge-nudge questions had quickly gotten on Ron's nerves. Ron doubted this was double-pronged assault (despite Bonnie's bragging to Kim and the other cheerleaders about her own "activities"), since Brick was nowhere near that malicious.

Either way, it didn't really matter anymore; they'd dealt with it (_that_ had been an awkweird conversation if there ever was one), and the issue had been devolved into a petty annoyance. Brick had stopped asking entirely, once it had gotten through his thick head that it wasn't so much that Ron wasn't saying, but he and Kim _weren't_.

Still, even petty annoyances could become extremely tiresome. Which meant that Kim wasn't fully enjoying the clear, spring Saturday.

The trees were all green, and full of leaves; the birds were singing; the sky itself was an exceptional shade of blue, with nary a cloud in sight; and the park was full of happy, chattering people. Even the ducks were up and moving, swimming and waddling around the pond in that oddly amusing way that is unique to ducks.

Kim and Ron, for their part, were laying in the shade of a single, large tree that stood at the crest of one of the park's many hills. It was removed from the main area of the park, affording them a bit of privacy, but still with a good view of the ducks. Ron lay flat on his back, his arms crossed behind his head. Kim lay perpendicular to him, resting her head on his chest. Every now and then she would let out a not-so-happy sounding sigh.

Rufus was down by the pond, searching for dropped cheese, and trying to avoid one very cranky duck.

"Okay, KP," Ron finally asked. "What's got you torqued?"

"Take a guess," she muttered.

"Does this have something to do with those sesame seeds? Because I totally didn't know those came from Dementor..."

"No, Ron," she said, chuckling. He had made dinner for her and his parents two weeks ago. The recipe had called for sesame seeds, and Ron had wound up purchasing a bag of mutant seeds from a front company of Dr. Dementor's. It hadn't been pretty.

The conversation that she'd had with his parents, though, had been very interesting indeed.

"Then what?"

"Bonnie."

"Aw, KP," he said with a groan. "That again?"

"Sometimes I think it'd be worthwhile for us to just go ahead and... you know... just to make her shut up about it!"

"KP..."

"I know, I know," she said. "We decided to wait... but to hear Bonnie talk about it, you'd think that makes us the craziest people alive."

"You should hear Brick," Ron said with his own long-suffering sigh.

"As bad as Bonnie?"

"Nah, not as bad as the Bon-Bon," Ron said. "At least Brick stopped asking me if we were, but I now know far more about those two than I ever wanted."

"Lucky you," Kim muttered. "Still... even if we aren't... I can still use you as a pillow, right?"

Ron uncrossed his arms and draped his left arm her shoulders, placed his his hand on her right shoulder, and squeezed her affectionately. She smiled, closed her eyes, and placed her hand on his.

"How could I possibly say no to that?" he answered with his own smile. They were quiet, then, for a time, just lying there in the shade and enjoying each other's company.

"It just gets to me," she said, snuggling closer to him.

"I know, KP," he replied gently. For some reason Bonnie's taunts had always gotten to her; neither of them really understood why.

"Maybe I should be more like you, and not care what other people think," she said whispered.

"See, that's what I'm sayin'," he agreed, his grin quite audible. "I mean, it's not that I don't care what other people think, it's just that the only opinions that matter to me are yours, my parent's, your parent's, Rabbi Katz's, Sensei's, Yori's, Tara's, Amelia's, Zita's..."

He began rattling off a series of names, which Kim realized as consisting of nearly the entire cheer squad (sans Bonnie), the flagettes and color guard (female members, at least), the girls track team... well, basically he was naming every single female at Middleton High (with the aforementioned lack of Bonnie, of course).

Slowly, almost mechanically, she turned her head to face him, and fixed a glare in the general direction of his head.

He raised his head towards her and winked, his face sporting a mischievous grin. She smiled sweetly.

"Ron," she said, her voice sweet enough to match her smile... then she dug an elbow into his gut. He grunted and folded over at the middle, or at least as much as the presence of her head would allow.

"My... spleen..." he groaned.

"That's what you get, you dweeb- ah! No, no tickle- Ron!" she said, laughing. He had quickly gone on the offense, and moved his hand from her shoulder to her ribs, and had begun to tickle her. She responded in kind, and they spend several minutes wrestling and laughing upon the ground. Like all such fights, it ended in a draw, and with them lying on the ground, side by side. Ron's left arm was around her shoulders, and Kim nestled herself against his side.

After a few minutes, Kim poked him in the side.

"So where does that list _really_ end?"

"Eh, with Sensei."

She poked him again.

"Okay, okay... with Yori," he admitted, and then had to continue quickly before she poked him again. "Look, KP, she practically trained me the first time I was at Yamanouchi. She's a _friend_, and just as much my teacher as Sensei was."

"Riiight," Kim said dubiously. "You two still keep in touch?"

"I tried to, but I think I got her e-mail wrong, 'cause 'Yori at Yamanoochi dot jp' doesn't seem to work. Dunno why."

"That's too bad," Kim said neutrally.

"Yeah, well, I'm sure she's busy doing all her ninja stuff. Besides, if she needs _us_," he said, intentionally stressing the word 'us', "then she knows where to find us: right here in Middleton."

"Yeah," Kim said quietly, "in Middleton..."

"Okay, I know _that_ tone."

"What 'tone'?"

"That quiet... tone... thing," he said shortly. "C'mon, KP, spill: what's wrong, and I know this has nothing to do with Bonnie."

All of sudden she sat up, and pulled her legs up to her chest; and she wrapped her arms around her knees. Ron too sat up, and looked at her strangely, sensing that she was troubled.

"Ron, I told you that I sent an application to Beircheart-Andswarian University, in Overton, right?"

"Yeah..."

"Well, they accepted me. Full scholarship and all."

"KP, that's great!" Ron exulted. "You've been talking about wanting to go there since you were, like, seven!"

"Yeah, it's great," Kim said listlessly.

"Or... not... great..." Ron said, worried.

"No, Ron, it... it's what I thought I wanted, but..." Kim began, trying to figure out how to explain it to him.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is... I've got a good reason to want to stay here," she said, and turned her face towards him. Her eyes left no doubt as to the identity of her reason. There was also the fact that she had no idea how she would be able to concentrate on her studies _and_ rush off to save the world from supervillians, but she didn't mention that. Somehow, it didn't seem all that important.

"So you're gonna turn down BAU on account of _me_?" Ron asked. "KP, I'm flattered, but... acting like you don't have any sense is _my_ job, alright?"

"Ron..."

"Nah-unh, KP," Ron said, cutting her off. "I ain't gonna have you passing up a chance like this just because of me. It's what you always wanted, right?"

"Well, yeah..." she admitted.

"Then here's what you're gonna do," Ron said encouragingly. Even as he spoke he placed her hands on her shoulders and began to massage them.

"You're gonna take that offer," he continued, "and you're gonna go to BAU and wow them completely, in true Kim Possible fashion."

She relaxed under his touch.

"And what about you?"

"Me? Oh, I figured I'd bum around town for a while, maybe go back to work at Bueno Nacho. Maybe look up Zita..."

"STOPPABLE!" she yelled, and tried to elbow him again, but he had moved his hands from her shoulders and wrapped his arms around her, effectively keeping her elbows from jabbing into his ribs. She struggled for a bit, and then groaned in frustration and stopped trying to hit him.

They both laughed, and he kissed the back of her neck.

"Seriously, KP, I'll be fine. _We'll _be fine; after all we've been through, I doubt the miles between here and Overton will matter. 'Sides, it ain't like you're going to Norway or anything."

"Still don't like the food there?"

"Still. Dunno why I don't, but I'm certain the food in Overton is better."

"I guess you're right," she said, leaning back into him. "What's a five hour drive between us?"

"After the synthodrone? Nothin' at all, KP, nothin' at all."

She elbowed him again, successfully this time.

"Though.. the constant abuse..." Ron gasped, "might have... some effect..."

"Oh hush. That one wasn't all that hard."

"Just for that," he grumped, "I'm not going to tell you how proud I am that you got that scholarship."

"But you just did."

"Yeah, well, my plans stink."

Their conversation went about like that for the next ten minutes, a rapid-fire exchange of sarcastic one-liners and playful banter in which Kim quickly gained the upper hand. Soon they realized just how close it was to lunchtime (for a Saturday, that is; such days run on their own schedule) and made plans to go to Bueno Nacho for lunch. Kim watched as Ron got up and walked down the hill, intent on collecting Rufus, who was still hiding from the acrimonius duck.

Her smile faded as he left.

_'So I'll be off to Overton at the end of the summer,'_ she thought to herself. _'So, why oh why, Ron, have I been dreaming about _you_ leaving ever since I got that acceptance letter?'_

* * *

April passed into May and their last month of High School. While the new study schedule made life very hectic for them, there were a few benefits to be had. The first, of course, was the fact that Bonnie was also occupied with preparing for finals, and as such could not longer induldge in her favorite past-time of 'making Kim Possible miserable'.

They also discovered that they didn't have to worry about freak-fighting. Drakken and Shego hadn't been seen since they'd escaped from prison the previous May. Dementor was in jail, having been captured after the sesame seed incident. The rest were laying low, more than likely recovering from all the defeats that Team Possible had dealt them during the duration of the school year.

Stress was everywhere. The days were occupied in last minute teaching and review sessions in their classes; the afternoons, for Kim and Ron, were spent at Kim's house, along with Monique and Felix, studying for finals whilst Mrs. Dr. Possible kept them supplied with what she called 'brain food'.

At one point Kim had to explain to her, as patiently as she could, that brain-shaped meatloaf did not count as 'brain food'. However, she did have to give her mom credit, as the arrival of the brain-loaf had defused a tense situation; they had been studying for a while, and Ron had begun to mutter something about monkeys, Felix had developed a new facial tic, and Monique had a weird glint in her eyes.

The sudden arrival of the brain-loaf sent them all into diverse expressions of disgust, followed by much laughter as Kim turned beet red and shooed her mom from the room.

In the end they all survived their finals, even Ron. Final class rankings were announced, and graduation was scheduled for the last week in May.

* * *

"BOO-YAH, KP!"

The ceremony had ended, the students had filed out, and they were all standing in a giant clump outside the auditorium. Friends and couples, separated by the unconscionable tyranny of seating arrangement and procession by last name (alphabetical), struggled to find each other in the human mass.

Ron had spotted Kim, who was standing only a few feet away from him, yet beyond two rather large clumps of people. She had been talking to Felix, who was still laughing about how the exhaust from the hover-jets on his chair had displaced a portion of the principle's robe. He stopped talking, and smirked knowingly, as Kim whirled around at Ron's victory cry.

She was about to give one of her own when Ron finally made his way through the crowd and silenced her with a victory kiss.

Whatever she was about to say came out as a strangely-pitched and muffled moan.

A few people around them, including Felix, wolf-whistled and made cat-calls.

That, amongst other things, meant that Kim and Ron were both quite flushed when they came up for air.

"Possible, Stoppable," came a gruff voice from behind them. "That was a PDA violation, regulation number 4265... my office, NOW."

They turned (well, Ron turned) to see Steve Barkin, Middleton High's ubiquitous teacher, looking just as grim as ever.

"Mr. Barkin!" Kim said in surprise.

"C'mon, Mr. B.," Ron tried to reason. "We've just graduated, you can't give us detention now."

"Oh, I could Stoppable," Barkin said in a menacing whisper. "Believe me, I could withold your diplomas if I felt like it."

The two teens went from flushed to deathly pale in such a sort space of time that it was feared they would pass out.

Then Barkin's face changed from grim displeasure to amusement.

"But I won't," he continued. "Sorry, kids, couldn't resist; had to threaten that once more, just for old time's sake."

Kim and Ron laughed nervously as the color returned to their cheeks.

"N...nice one, Mr. B.," Ron said.

"Yeah, really had us going, Mr. Barkin."

"Like I said, I couldn't resist. You did good, Possible; you too, Stoppable. I'm proud of the both of you."

He walked in between them, and gave Ron a little pat on the shoulder as he did so. He was past them, and they were staring at him in surprise (Ron especially so), when he turned his head and glanced at them.

"If you two ever need anything," the old soldier said, "you know how to find me. Once a Mad Dog, always a Mad Dog."

Then he turned and faded into the crowd.

"Okay, that was weird," Kim said finally.

"Yet not unpleasantly so," Ron mused.

They turned and saw Felix laughing so hard he had to clutch his stomach.

"C'mon, F-dawg, it wasn't _that_ funny."

"Ron, dude, you didn't see your face," Felix said between laughs. "Trust me, bro, it _was_ that funny."

"He's got a point there," came the voice of Monique, who was also attempting to bust a gut laughing, as she came up to them. She had, of course, seen the whole thing.

Kim gave them both a look.

"You know, Ron, I'm glad our friends find us so amusing," she said lightly. "I'd hate to think that we're getting boring."

"Speak for yourself, KP. I have no intention of_ ever_ becoming boring."

Ron and Felix let out a cry of 'Never Be Normal!' and gave each other high-fives. Kim and Monique just rolled their eyes.

"Girl, sometimes I just don't know how you do it."

Kim looked at Ron affectionately; he and Felix had fallen into a conversation on the finer points of Zombie Mayhem, and how they would schedule in a few final bashing sessions before Felix left for Cal Tech.

"Eh, he grows on you," she said with a light smile.

"Like kudzu?" Monique said sardonically. "Don't get me wrong, Kim, the two of you are cute as all get out, but-"

"But, really, you have wonder why _Kim Possible_ would date a _loser_ like Stoppable," came a cruel voice from behind them.

"Hello, Bonnie," Kim said icily. She turned and saw the slender, brown-haired beauty hehind her, a customarially unkind expression on her face.

Felix and Ron had grown quiet, and were watching the confrontation.

"Hi, Kimmie," Bonnie replied, her smile as icy as Kim's tone had been. "I was just on my way to find Brick; his family is treating us to a celebratory dinner... and then we'll be doing some celebrating of our own."

The last part was said in a manner that left no doubt as to what that celebration would entail.

"Bonnie, please," Kim said in annoyance. "Can't you be civil, just for once? I thought we had an understanding..."

"Oh, Kimmie, I understand completely: I wouldn't want to sleep with Stoppable either."

If looks could kill, Bonnie would have been rent twain assunder, and that just by the look _Monique _gave her. Kim's would have left her alive and eviscerated, and dying a slow, painful death.

"Bonnie..." Kim growled. It was unknown what she would say next, as they all caught sight of Brick and his family.

"Anyway, I, like, gotta go now, Kimmie," Bonnie said dismissively. "I guess I should say 'congratulations', or something. But I don't know why..."

She looked past Kim, at Ron, who had managed to keep his expression wholly neutral throughout the exchange.

"Since you can really do so much better."

"No," Kim said resolutely, "I really _can't_."

Ron finally let his expression change, and he smirked at Bonnie.

"What_ever_," Bonnie replied. "Anyway, see you around, Possible. The _loser_, too."

"Hey, Bonnie," Ron said, finally speaking up. "Tell Brick congratulations, from me, on his football scholarship to KSU."

Bonnie harumphed, turned around, and walked off. Well, she didn't so much walk as she _sashayed_ over to Brick, his parents, and his younger brother. Brick, cluelessly decent guy as he was, waved at Kim and company; Ron waved back. The Flagg family, as soon as Bonnie joined them, left the reception area, as they had a fairly early reservation at the restaurant.

Only Felix noticed that Bonnie's family, her sisters and mother, were nowhere to be seen.

"How long has she been like that?" he whispered to Ron. He knew the history between Kim and Bonnie, of course, so did everyone at Middleton High. He hadn't been privy to much of the recent tension, though, as his schedule kept his interaction with Ron and Kim confined to after-school hours, when they were safely away from Bonnie Rockwaller..

"Besides forever?" Ron replied sardonically. "Ever since KP and I started dating. But that was a low blow, even for her."

Felix nodded.

Kim, for her part, was still standing in place, her body tense, and wishing for all the world that she had hauled off an slapped Bonnie. She was so tense, in fact, that she was trembling.

_'How dare that little-'_

Her thought was cut off by Ron, who walked up behind her and wrapped her arms around her shoulders. She sighed and leaned against him, his touch immediately causing her body to relax.

"Thanks, Ron," she said after a moment. She patted one of his hands, and they separated.

"Look at it this way, KP," he said with a grin. "We don't have to deal with her ever again."

"This is true," she replied, beginning to smile again.

Then they heard a young voice from somewhere off to their right.

"Hey, I think I see 'em!"

The voice belonged to young Jim Possible, now thirteen years old.

"Yeah, over there by the fake plants," replied Tim Possible, his twin. "Hey dad! We found 'em!"

Kim and Ron turned towards the voices and saw the tweebs headed towards them, with the Possibles, Nana Possible, and Stoppables not far behind. They had been trying to find Kim and Ron after the ceremony, but that had been somewhat difficult, since the students and audience had exited the auditorium through different doors, and there had been quite a crowd to have to push through.

Of course, after the two groups spotted each other, it didn't take very long for the families to reach their graduates. Kim greeted her parents, grandmother, and brothers with hugs (the tweebs were slowly working their way out of the 'cootie' stage), while Ron hugged his mom and exchanged a warm handshake with his father. Rufus, who had spent the ceremony on Mr. Stoppable's shoulder (the principle had expressly outlawed the prescence of animals amongst the graduates), scampered down the across their arms to stand on Ron's shoulder.

"Monique, Felix," Mrs. Possible said when all the congratulations had been spoken, "we're taking Kimmie and Ron out to dinner, and the two of you are welcome to join us."

"Thanks for the offer, Dr. Possible," Felix replied, "but I've got plans with my mom. In fact, I should probably try and find her..."

"Same here, actually," Monique said, shaking her head. "Got stuff planned with my folks."

At the same time Mr. Dr. Possible had pulled the kimmunicator from his jacket pocket (Kim had given it to him to ensure that it wouldn't beep while she was receiving her diploma) and handed it to Kim.

"It started beeping a couple of times during the ceremony, Kimmie-cub," Mr. Dr. Possible explained. "I think it's Wade."

"Is he still on?"

"He said he'd wait till the ceremony was over."

Kim shook her head and pressed the call button. The image of Wade Load appeared on the screen, though the background was different, as it appeared that he wasn't in his room.

"Talk to me, Wade."

"Hey, Kim," Wade began. "Graduation went well?"

"Well enough," she said frostily, "even if my tech guy couldn't bother to show up."

"Yeah, sorry about that," he said sheepishly. "I had a meeting with the Attorney General, and it couldn't really wait."

"You're not in trouble, are you?" she asked, the icy tone from earlier giving way to concern. "Does this had something to do with-"

"No, it doesn't," he said, cutting her off, "and let's not talk about that, okay? Anyway, don't worry: it's good news."

"Right. So what is it?"

"Get Ron over here first. This is for the both of you."

"We'll be on in a moment, Wade," Kim replied. She turned and saw Ron giving Felix another high five, who then activated the flight systems on his wheelchair and flew above the crowd, evidently attempting go find his mother.

"Ah, arial reconaissance," Ron said to Rufus. "Gotta love it."

Kim shook her head and was about to call Ron over to her when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Heading out already, Monique?" Kim asked.

"Yeah, gotta track down my parents sometime, and I can't fly," Monique said dryly. "Give me a call later, alright? We've got a lot of shopping to do before the fall."

"Wouldn't miss it," Kim said with a grin. "You ready for life at BAU?"

"I'll tell you after the first Club Banana sale," Monique replied, again dryly. The two friends hugged, and then Monique set out to track down her family.

It was, after all, a fairly large crowd.

Kim turned to call Ron, only to discover that he was already standing next to her. She also noticed that her father (and Ron's dad, as well) was tapping his foot and looking at his watch, though his face showed no annoyance, just amusement. They were getting close to the reservation time.

"Okay Wade," she said, holding the kimmunicator so the camera picked up both her and Ron. "What's the sitch? And can we talk on the move?"

"Uh, sure," Wade said uncertainly. Kim, Ron, and family, began to make their way towards the door of the covention center.

"Wade, are you in your room?" Ron asked as they started to walk.

"Actually, I'm in a private jet, somewhere over Ohio, I think," Wade replied. "They let you travel in style when you meet with the government.

"Anyway," Wade continued, "I just got done meeting with the Attorney General, and finishing up the arrangements for my graduation present to the two of you."

The screen changed, this time displaying a building. It was flat, rectangular, utterly unremarkable, and seemed to be in the middle of nowhere.

"It's... a... building," Ron observed. "Wade, I know they do things funnily in the government, but Kim and I aren't even married yet, and if you think this is our idea of a dream home-"

He was cut off by Kim's elbow contacting with his ribs and by Wade's explaination.

"No, it's not a dream home. This is the newly-constructed Gaol Federal Prison. I designed it myself."

"Oh really?" Kim said.

"Yup," Wade said, with obvious pride. "It's escape-proof, with each cell specifically tailored to keep in one of your arch-foes."

"You mean-"

"That's right: you stick anyone from Drakken to Monkey Fist in this prison, and it'll be assured that they'll serve their whole sentence."

They exited the convention center then, and stepped out into the light of a cloudless day. Kim and Ron traded dubious looks.

"C'mon, guys," Wade complained, seeing their faces. "You know the design is good."

"We ain't hatin' on the design, Wade," Ron said, "we're just wondering about the, ah... what are we wondering about, KP?"

"The human factor," Kim said, rolling her eyes. "Wade, I'm certain your design rocks, but guards can still be bribed to look the other way. It's how the Seniors got out the last time. I mean, you could use robots, or Boy Scouts-"

"Even better," Wade said excitedly, not letting their doubts get him down. "Retired Marine Corps senior NCOs! About as tough and incorruptible as you can get."

"He's got a point, KP. Remember Barkin..."

"Ron, Barkin was in the _Army_."

"Army, Marine, same difference."

Kim and Wade traded a look.

"Ron," Wade advised, "never say that to any actual Marines.

"So," he continued. "What do you think?"

"I think you've sold us," Kim said with a smile. "So this is why you were in Washington?"

"Sort of. See, the thing is, all of your villains still have time left on their sentences. Say, five to ten years apiece..."

Five years. Enough time to complete a degree, to go through college and graduate without...

Without having to deal with some maniac trying to take over the world. Time to concentrate on studies, and not have to run off to stop Drakken's latest scheme, or keep DNAmy from violating the laws of nature. High school had been forgiving in that regard, but college was another league entirely, and Kim knew that she would not need the distraction.

Time to live, without that life's rhythms being defined by schedules of madmen.

She came to a stop, just outside the convention center. Ron placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Wade," she said after a moment, "have I ever told you that you give excellent presents?"

"I try," he said modestly. "After everything the two of you have done, we figured you could use a break to concentrate on school instead of saving the world. There is a catch, though..."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah. See, given all your successes against these guys, the DOJ figures that the two of you are best suited to hauling them in. How about it?"

Kim thought about for a moment, then she turned to Ron with a grin.

"What do you think, Ron? Up to one last summer of freak fighting?"

"Two words, KP," Ron said with his own grin. "Boo. Yah. At least, so long as we wait 'till after dinner..."

* * *

It did wait until after dinner; in fact, they waited nearly a week before setting out. They did need to take time to strategize and prepare if they wished to take their "rogue's gallery" out in one fell swoop. Besides, they had just graduated, and Kim and Ron wanted to have some 'together' time.

It was a sign of Mr. Dr. Possible's trust in Ron that he didn't fret much over their 'together' time; it was a sign of Ron's quality that he never violated that trust.

They soon set out to reign in the tide of lawlessness and psychomania that was their list of foes. Dr. Dementor, of course, had already been transferred to the new prison, so he didn't even make the list.

The first name on said list was DNAmy. They figured best to start light, and she had been the easiest to track down; the equipment used in her genetics 'research' and experiments was highly specialized, so it was easy to track down what locations had received delivery of such items. From there, it was even easier to determine which companies actually existed, and had valid banking accounts.

Her latest project was a... thing... designed to aid her in tracking down Monkey Fist. This also explained to Kim and Ron why Monkey Fist had been quiet lately.

No one was ever really sure which creatures its unholy form was an amalgam of; all that was known was that it was large, had many horns, well-developed olfactory organs, and was highly tenacious.

Unfortunately for DNAmy, it also had an ingrained fear of naked mole rats. Which meant that it knocked a very large hole in her lab's wall as it fled in unreasoning terror at the onset of Rufus.

DNAmy was apprehended shortly therafter.

Duff Killigan was second on the list, and was attempting to lower his average score by detonating his exploding golf balls in every hole in every course (even put-put courses) in the world, thus increasing the size fo the holes and his chances of getting a hole-in-one. A quick dodge by Kim meant that the golf ball intended for her went into Killigan's carry-bag instead.

This set off the rest of his exploding golf balls, all at once, and sent Duff himself flying forty yards through the air and into a water hazard.

The prison allowed him to eat haggis.

Next was Monkey Fist, who was attempting some scheme or another that dealt with Mystical Monkey Legends. Kim held off the monkey ninjas while Ron defeated Monkey Fist in single combat. At least, that's what they told everyone. The truth of the matter was that Ron accidentally backed into one of Fist's monkey statues, causing it to fall and hit the both of them on the head. Ron simply woke up first, just in time to see Kim "go all super-suit on the last monkey, bam-pow!", as he would put it later.

Monkey Fist, for his part, wound up in a cell directly across from DNAmy. His face contorted in horror when he saw her, and he seemed to be about to scream... but instead he sighed, and his face took on the look of a man who was resigned to his fate.

DNAmy, as can be surmised, was thirlled to death.

Next up was Señor Senior Sr., and Señor Senior Junior, whose capture was wholy unremarkable. The remarkable thing occurred at the prison.

"Well played, Ms. Possible," Señor Senior Senior had said, as the cell bars clanged shut in front of him. "Very well played indeed."

"Oh, I'm not done yet," Kim replied. "Ron, the kimmunicator, please."

She held out her left hand.

"Here ya go, KP," Ron said as he slapped the kimmunicator into her outstretched hand. They had Señor Senior Senior's attention.

Kim pressed a button on the kimmunicator, then leaned against the bars and held it up for him to see. He began to smile as he read the headline.

VINCINT WHEELER INDICTED FOR FRAUD.

"The DA is willing to cut you a deal," Kim explained. "You turn State's Evidence against Wheeler, and you and Junior are out of here in a year."

"I see. What is the catch?"

"Simple. This was _my_ idea, Senior, so you'll owe _me._ You get out of here, you have to swear on the Book of Evil that you'll give up villainy for good."

"Give up villainy? My one joy and pride?"

"What of me, Father? Am I not your pride and joy?" Junior asked from the cell next door.

"Quiet, Junior, now is not the time."

"Yes, give up villainy," Kim said resolutely. "Find some other hobby, something that doesn't involve holding continents hostage, and that won't require me to skip class to deal with you. If not, then the whole deal is off."

"I see," he said contemplatively.

"I am an old man, Ms. Possible," he continued, looking at her. "I should wish to spend my remaining years on my island, with my son."

He pounded upon the floor with the tip of his cane.

"Very well, Kim Possible; we are in agreement. Again, very well played."

"Spankin'," Kim replied. "The DA will be here tomorrow to finalize everything. See you in a year."

She and Ron were nearly to the door when Señor Senior Senior called out to them.

"Tell me, Ms. Possible, Mr. Stoppable... were we good villains?"

"It took ya a while, " Ron replied seriously, "but you did alright."

* * *

"Kim Possible! You think you're _all that_, but you're _not!_"

The door to the police wagon slammed shut and cut them off from the rest of the world. Dr Drakken, his hands bound behind his back, turned in his seat to face his partner.

"Excellent fight, Shego," he groused. "You really showed her who was boss."

"Yeah? At least I _fought_, instead of cowering in front of the sidekick."

"But... but... he had the _serious face_," Drakken said, a twinge of fear in his voice. Ever since the Diablo plot, the serious face of Ron Stoppable had haunted his dreams...

"The serious face? The _serious face_! You were on your knees, babbling incoherently, just because he looked at you with a 'serious face'?" Shego said increduoulsy.

"Shego!" Drakken yelled. "At least I wasn't knocked out while mesmerized by the buffoon's underpants!"

"I didn't expect them to be pink," Shego replied defensively. "So... now what do we do, since you wasted all of last year on the little projects that we'll never get to use."

"Quiet, Shego. Yes, we may have been captured this time, but soon we will escape from prison, and then I will use my Legacy to wear down Kim Possible in battle after battle, until finally she will be at my mercy!"

He began to laugh maniacally, whilst Shego just shook her head.

"Oh yeah, Dr. D. _Great _plan."

"O f course it's a great plan, Shego! I got it from a _comic book_," he said proudly. Then his face clouded, and he looked at her questioningly.

"Wait... were you being supportive, or saracastic? I still can't tell..."

* * *

"Kim Possible! You think you're _all that_-"

The door of the police wagon slammed shut and cut off the rest of Drakken's taunt.

"-but you're not," Kim finished for him. "Really, you'd think he'd have come up with something different by now, right Ron?"

"Yup. Totally unoriginal," Ron agreed, still sounding a bit flustered. Kim had been worried about him during the trip over, as he'd been unusually quiet and introspective. Then, with what had happened during the fight...

Well, maybe tweaking him some would shed light on what was going on in his head. She took him by the right arm and started to lead him back towards their ride.

"So, I guess this was it, huh?" Ron said. Drakken and Shego had been the last names on the list; it had just seemed appropriate.

"I guess," Kim said. "I still get the feeling that we're forgetting something, though."

"Eh, probably just has to do with that 'Legacy' stuff Drakken was ranting about. I think GJ plans to keep an eye out for it."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," she replied, then leaned her head against his right shoulder. "It shouldn't be a problem.

"Still, Ron," she said sweetly, "thanks for the assist back there."

He flushed red.

"Oh how I rue the day that red sock got mixed in with the whites."

"You actually had Shego staring at you," she teased. "I think you caught her eye."

"Sick and wrong, KP."

They bantered for a bit, but it was half-hearted on Ron's part; the boy clearly had something on his mind.

"Okay, Ron," she said. "Spill. Something's up with you, and I want to know what."

He looked at her for a moment, then nodded and changed direction towards one of the larger rocks outside of Drakken's mountain base. They sat on the rock, and Ron stared at his feet for a moment.

"My parents gave me something a few days ago," he began, and then told her the story.

His maternal grandfather, Wiktor Sobieski, had died of pancreatic cancer when Ron was only six months old. Before he died, though, he had recorded a series of cassette tapes, just so he could pass on his story, and some of his wisdom, to his grandson.

"And they waited till now to give them to you?" Kim asked. She liked the Stoppables, she really did, but knew that they could act very cold on occasion.

"Well, the bank lost a few of the forms that would let them get into the safety deposti box. That, and it was what Grandpa Sobieski wanted," Ron explained. "He told them to wait until I had graduated and, well, until I'd fallen in love."

"Why?"

"He said that way I'd understand. I think he was right."

Ron then told her more of the story. Wiktor had emigrated to the United States from Europe in 1947. He had lived in Poland until the invasion and blitzkrieg of 1939, but had actually been born in Germany.

"That's what he said in the tapes, at least," Ron continued. "KP, there was this one picture in the box... I saw it before I listened to the tapes. It was my grandfather holding me on the day I was born."

_'The only other time I saw someone look that overjoyed was when I looked into the mirror after prom,'_ he thought, but didn't say aloud. She knew it anyway.

"There was a number tattooed on his arm."

Nothing more had to be said; they both knew what it meant for a European Jew to have such a tattoo.

He had watched everyone he loved die in front of him, in the Dachau concentration camp. He himself had barely survived until the liberation by the 45th Infantry Division in 1945. Somehow, he had made his way to the States and had built a life for himself, having survived the worst that men had to offer.

He had lived to see his descendents to the second generation.

* * *

Finally, though, summer itself drew to an end, and Kim Possible prepared to leave Middleton. At last, the day came. Ron had come by to help her pack, and to see her off. Finally her stuff was in the car, her family was in the, and then it was just her and Ron, standing in the yard.

"Well, Kim, I guess, uh, I guess this is it," Ron said nervously. He found himself wondering exactly why he had encouraged her to go to BAU in the first place. Still, it wasn't like she was changing continents or anything, and he knew that she would be back in Middleton for Thanksgiving and Christmas... but he didn't realize just how much he would miss her until just then.

He found it hard to keep from crying.

"Yeah, yeah I guess," Kim replied, her voice in the exact same tone. They'd been separated before, when Ron had gone off to Camp Wannaweep, but they were children then, and it had been nothing like this.

Even Rufus was whining.

"Uh, here," Kim said, handing something to Ron. "I had Wade whip this up for you."

"My own kimmunicator," Ron said appreciatively as he took the small blue object.

"Correction: ronnunicator! You can call me, or beep me... you know, if you want to reach me?"

Ron looked at Kim, then he looked at the ronnunicatior, then he looked back at Kim and got the strangest feeling that they had done this before. He began to sniffle a little bit, and his vision blurred.

"No need to cry, Ron," Kim said kindly.

"I'm not crying," Ron protested, though the quaver in his voice belied the assertion. "Well, maybe a little..."

Then the talking stopped, and they embraced. Kim wrapped her arms around his neck, and Ron's were around her back; he held her so tight that she felt as if she would burst. Then they kissed, a long, lingering kiss of lovers soon to be separated, yet with hopoe and knowledge of an eventual reunion.

The communication devices would let them talk to each other and see each other, but it wouldn't be the same.

Finally Ron pulled his lips away and took a breath.

"I think you need to go, KP," he joked. "I can hear your dad's teeth gnashing from over here."

"He's just worried that we won't get there on time."

"Rocket scientists, all about the timing," Ron said. He let Kim go and stepped back.

"I'm going to miss you, KP."

She stepped foreward and give him one last kiss on the cheek.

"I'll miss you too, Ron. See you at Thanksgiving?"

He grinned.

"I'll be here when you get back."

She nodded, and, reluctantly, turned away from Ron and got into the car. Ron stood there in the yard and waved goodbye as the Possible family set off to deliver their daughter to college.

He stood there still, long after they were out of sight. Finally, he looked down at Rufus, and put the ronnunicator in his pocket.

"Well, buddy," he said at last, "let's go home."

END CHAPTER 1


	2. Regression

Author's Notes: Well, this one is late.. sorry 'bout that. Anyway...

Willk1989 - You are correct, sir. This particular story begins about a year after StD, and was, actually, the first story that came to my head when I decided to try and write KP fanfiction. Oh, and I hope I did better with the spelling in this one, though I still can't believe I misspelled "aerial", of all things, in the last installment... Thanks for the input, man.

jasminevr - Thanks! It's not exactly "soon", I know, but here's the update anyway.

Dillymac - It doesn't have much to do with Judaism _per se_, but more to do with the fact that Wiktor Sobieski spent the WWII years in Dachau.

Anyway, on to the story... oh yeah, I don't own Kim Possible; that falls to Disney. And remember, kids, just say no to sixty-five...

* * *

_"Love is patient, love is kind and is not jealous; love does not brag and is not arrogant..." 1 Corinthians 13:4_

**Chapter 2: Regression**

Overton was a long drive from Middleton, nearly five hours. Fortunately, most of this was on the interstate, and as such the time sped by with very few interruptions by red light. Of course, there were the occasional interruptions by rest stop, as it is a given that the bladders of five people will not always work in sync.

When she wasn't the reason for the rest stop, Kim would take the opportunity to call Ron on the kimmunicator, usually just to chat, or to discuss some particularly interesting piece of scenery.. Of course, she also did this from the car, but the rest stops meant that they could talk without the sound of a car powered by experimental fuel cells.

The frequency of the calls was such that Ron commented that it seemed like Kim called every five minutes, just like clockwork. Not that Ron minded that, of course.

It wasn't a bad trip by any means: the route between Overton and Middleton was known for its natural beauty, and the tweebs even managed to behave themselves, at least after a while. About an hour into the trip they had gotten into a fight over who whose turn it was on the Gameguy, a scuffle which ended quite abruptly when the aforementioned Gameguy went sailing out a window and was subsequently dashed to pieces on the side of the road.

They sat and sulked for a half-hour, and then began a game of trying to identify which mountain Drakken would likely pick as a hideout.

In between tweeb-referee duty (something that she realized, belatedly, that she would miss), and calls back and forth to Ron, Kim would talk with her parents. Her mother had completed her undergraduate work at BAU, and she would tell Kim about how Overton had been "back in the day". Her father had never actually set foot on the BAU campus as a student, having not met the future Mrs. Dr. Possible till grad school; still, he had been to Overton a few times (the skiing was phenomenal), and he had also played mentor to some BAU Engineering students who had worked as co-ops at the Middleton Space Center. He knew, then, a little bit more about the current quality of students at BAU than Mrs. Dr. Possible did.

There was still a good bit of planning to do before they arrived; they didn't yet know which of the residence halls Kim would be in, so they drew on what Mrs. Dr. Possible remembered of the campus to plan how they would get from the administration building to whichever hall wound up being "hers". Kim also elicited a promise from her father that, if a bunch of frat boys offered to help carry her stuff up, that he would politely decline and no mention would be made of black holes, or other astral phenomena.

She intended to find Monique as soon as possible, and get to work exploring the campus. That could wind up being a bit tricky, as she had no idea where Monique would be staying at, and since the campus itself was rather large, and it could be difficult to find one person in the 6800 on-campus students. But she would try, of course: she _was_ Kim Possible, after all, and she could do anything.

* * *

Beircheart-Andswarian University (now counted amongst the "Public Ivies") was founded in the year 1845 by one Oscar C. Prescot. He had made his fortune in some business or another, the exact details being lost to history (some suspect duplicitous methods, and the use of hidden templar gold, but they are not taken seriously, nor are the rumors that trolls were involved), and set forth from his hometown to try and find something interesting to do with his wealth.

After a year of travel he came across a small community in the Overton Valley, and decided right on the spot that it would be a perfectly fine place to found an institution of higher learning. For reasons best known to himself he chose to name this institution Beircheart-Andswarian, a combination of two Anglo-Saxon words which meant 'intelligent army' and 'answers'.

The project seemed charmed from the start. The people of Overton, at that time a sleepy hamlet of some 765 people, decided in short order that this was a right fine idea, and the town council threw their full support behind both Prescot and his millions. Prescot himself made it a point to hire laborers from Overton whenever he could; many offered to work for him and take as payment only the promise that their children would be able to pursue education at the new university.

He agreed, and paid their salaries anyway. Overton itself had basic elementary education facilities, so most of the kids knew, or would know, how to read, write, and perform arithmetic. He considered that an acceptable foundation. Still, he established the first ever High School in Overton, to teach a few advanced preparatory subjects.

Prescot was also an active Freemason, and as such was able to draw in a great many skilled and idealistic members of his Order. They, in turn, formed the initial crop of professors teachers at BAU, and also oversaw some of the harder aspects of its construction. The initial hall, now called Oscar C. Prescot Memorial Hall, was wrought of stone under their direction, and its cornerstone bears the mark of the Square and Compasses.

The initial curriculum delved into the classical realms of mathematics, philosophy, and literature. Prescot considered these things, the arts of numbers, thought, and reading, to be the foundation of all other learning, and an excellent start for what he imagined his college to be. It can be said that he had a point.

Eventually, Oscar Prescot died, and the people of Overton interred him in a great tomb within the cemetery of the Methodist church which he had attended. BAU continued according to his wishes.

By the time the Fall of 2006 had rolled around, the college itself had expanded to encompass nine individual Schools: the Konrad Dannenberg School of Engineering, the Amanda Gates School of Sciences, the Terry R. Gladden School of Architecture, the Alexis de Tocqueville School of Public and Foreign Policy, the Da Vinci School of Liberal Arts, the John H. Hinderaker School of Law, the Michael Yon School of Journalism, the Adam Smith School of Business, and the Caduceus School of Medicine.

It had also been amongst the first schools to welcome the ROTC curriculum upon its creation in 1916, and had also instituted Naval and Air Force ROTC units upon their own conceptions. This was considered highly appropriated for a school that had a word meaning 'intelligent army' in its name.

The town itself would not be recognizable to any of the original inhabitants. It had grown, over the years, from the sleepy hamlet of 765 to a thriving city of some 70000, not counting tourists who came for the skiing.

* * *

They arrived at a quarter after one, on a clear Friday afternoon in August. The Campus was dotted with a great many parking decks, and they were able to pick one close to the administrative center. They parked, locked the doors, and then the Possible family exited the parking deck (in an entirely mundane way that needs not to be recounted) and made their way towards Oscar C. Prescot Memorial Hall. A few people, as soon as they caught sight of Kim, pointed and tried to stare without looking like they were staring, but only for a moment, as the pressures of the day were enough that there was no time to gawk at a teen hero.

The Hall itself was wrought of stone quarried from the nearby mountains, and had been constructed in a similar style to that of the Capital in Washington. The columns were of doric style, and the bas-relief sculptures, in an odd cultural contrast to the Greek influences, depicted Anglo-Saxon and Norse warriors in feats of strength and courage from ancient tales. Prescot had always had an interest in those ancient cultures, and that interest was reflected in many ways on the campus.

Mrs. Dr. Possible sighed and looked around fondly, falling back into her memories of the old college days.

Kim, for her part, was beginning to feel a bit overwhelmed, and had already informed Ron that she was going to hold off on calling him back until she was moved in and settled.

The whole family discovered, as she found it impossible not share a few anecdotes, that Mrs. Dr. Possible had been just a little bit mischievous whilst in college. At least two stories involved pumpkins and parking decks. At least _three_ stories were news to even Mr. Dr. Possible.

By the time they reached the Hall, she had gone from the amusing anecdotes to explaining some of the history of the college.

A giant welcome banner had been hung over the facade, the flag few above the rotunda, and the banner and coat of the school hung beneath the sign.

"So this building has been here since 1845?" Kim was asking as they stepped through the doors and into the foyer.

"Pretty much," her mom confirmed. "Some of the stone has been replaced for maintenance reasons, as well as the major overhaul when they wired the place for electricity, but yes. This building has been the heart of the school since it was founded."

The foyer emptied into the area just below the rotunda, and Kim could not help but stare up at the interior of the great dome, and feel overawed by the history of the place. A great, gilded chandelier hung from center of the dome, its many lights creating playful shadows amongst the supporting structures. Images from Norse mythology, and Anglo-Saxon songs, were painted on the interior sides of the dome, illuminated and highlighted by the play of the chandelier lights.

In a stone ring, at the base of the dome, was carved the motto of the school: _Lux aeterna et scienticia sempiternam, libera eas de ore leonis, de ores ignem. _Light eternal and knowledge everlasting, deliver them from the lion's mouth, the mouth of fire.

Let it not be said that Oscar Prescot had no sense of the dramatic.

The room itself was filled with students and parents, faculty and volunteers, and a set of tables at the back end of the room. Most of the people seemed to be lined up in front of those desks, which made sense, as there was a sign above the tables informing people that this was where one went to to learn one's housing assignment.

Dutifully, Kim and her mom filed into the line. Mr. Dr. Possible and the tweebs hung back, in order to keep the line from getting too long.

"Any sign of Monique?" Mrs. Dr. Possible asked.

"None," Kim replied, stretching on her toes. "Didn't expect to find her here, though. She came over with her parents yesterday, said that they wanted to see what Overton was like. I guess she's already moved in by now."

"Sounds likely," her mom replied, and then changed her voice to a whisper. "You excited?"

Kim looked up at her mom's smile and replied with one of her own.

"Excited, nervous... maybe even a little..."

"Scared?"

"Well, yeah," Kim said, blushing. "I mean, this isn't anything like the missions, or even Ron's trips to summer camp. I mean, I'm going to be spending the next few years of my life here, away from... home. Crazy isn't it?"

Mrs. Dr. Possible smiled knowingly and put arm arm around her daughter's shoulders.

"Not really; I felt the same things when I first came here."

"Had you spent the past few years running around with your best friend, trying to stop a bunch of megalomaniacal freaks from taking over the world?"

"No," she answered. "No, the worst I had was Bobby Johnson, who thought that putting worms in my hair was hilarious."

"Eeeegh," Kim groaned with a shudder.

"Yup, not fun. But Kimmie, just because you freak-fight doesn't mean its wrong for you to get scared about the normal things. Going off to college is a big deal."

"I know, I know, so not the drama... still... how did you get through all this? It's kind of overwhelming."

Mrs. Dr. Possible looked around at the sea of people, at the marvelous frescoes on the dome, and all of the awards cases, and the memorial plaques, and the great coat of arms, each of which stood and hung in the central hall. She remembered just how overwhelmed she had been when she'd stood on that very floor all those years ago.

"Faith, hope, and love, Kimmie. Those three will see you through pretty much anything."

"Love..." Kim repeated quietly.

"Ah... so that's what has you worried."

"We've never been apart like this, Mom! With me here, and Ron back in Middleton... I mean, what if..."

Mrs. Dr. Possible shook her head.

"Kimmie... I don't think that's going to be a problem."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Simple," she replied with a smile. "The only time I've seen you happier than you've been this past year was after the first day of preschool, when you couldn't stop talking about this new friend you'd made."

Kim surprised her by laughing. She laughed quietly, of course, since they were in a public place.

"I don't see what was so funny."

"No, it's not funny," Kim said still laughing, "it's just... mom, do you remember back before finals when, when I had dinner with the Stoppables?"

"The one where Ron used the mutant sesame seeds?"

"That's the one. Mom, what you just said... well, Ron's parents said the exact same thing about him."

"See?" her mom replied, beaming. "Nothing to worry about."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Kim said, finally satisfied. "Still... I wonder what he's thinking about right now..."

* * *

Had Kim any skills in telepathy, and could those skills reach all the way from Overton to Middleton, she would have discovered that Ron was thinking along similar lines, except he was doing his ruminations in a Bueno Nacho booth instead of in a line for a housing assignment.

It was not as it had been before the junior prom, when the onset of Erik the thrice-accursed synthodrone, and the fact that he felt he had noticed what had been building between himself and Kim only in time to watch it crumble away into ruin, had caused even the naco itself to lose its flavor and appeal. No, this was different, as there was no real despair in his heart, not as there had been when he had decided not to risk the best thing that had ever happened to him over unfulfilled (and possibly unrequited) feelings.

Here, now, the food was just as good as it always had been... he simply missed having Kim across from him.

Rufus, bless his little naked mole rat heart, was happily munching away at a naco.

_'She's been gone, what, a few hours now? And already I'm missing her...'_

"Rufus, buddy," he said aloud. "I dunno if I'm gonna get through this. If I'm moping around already..."

Rufus grunted something that sounded like "you'll live", and then he burped contentedly, having finished the naco.

"Think you so much for the moral support," Ron groused.

A small, quiet voice of doubt entered into his mind, and reminded him of Josh Mankey, and the Halloween party, and even of Erik-

_'Oh, shut up,'_ Ron thought angrily. _'This is not a catastrophe, so don't get hysterical. Kim's in Overton, fine. It's far away, fine. We can keep in touch, I've got the ronnunicator. This is _not_ a problem. We _trust_ each other. We _love_ each other.'_

For the moment, he had it settled in his mind. Now, he just had to wait for Kim to call and tell him that she had finished moving in.

He checked his watch, then checked his plate, and noting the time and lack of naco, decided that he could best spend that time at home, listening to a few more of his grandfather's old stories.

The narrative had just reached they year 1939.

* * *

The housing form read "Halwende Hall, Room 242", and gave directions from Prescot Hall to that particular dormitory. Curiously enough, the form did not list a roommate, even though the room was designed to house two people. Kim just shrugged and took it in stride, figuring that she would find out who the roommate was when she got there.

Halwende Hall was practically next door to Prescot Hall, and as such the Possibles elected to leave their car in the parking deck and just walk there. Soon, they were standing in front of a large, five story, U-shaped building, which opened, as it were, in the direction of the courtyard. It wasn't long before they found the door (the path leading towards it being a dead giveaway) and had entered into the building. They bypassed the elevators, which were packed with students carrying arm loads of random stuff, and took the stairs to the second floor.

Mr. Dr. Possible noticed, with some displeasure, that Kim had wound up in one of the coed dorms.

The numbering began in the right hand leg of the U, with 20 rooms in each leg and in the base. Kim's room, 242, was on the right hand edge of the base, facing out towards the courtyard.

Kim knocked on the door first, just in case her roommate was inside and needed warning. The sound of footsteps told her that someone else was indeed inside the room, and headed towards the door.

Then the door was opened, and Kim and the roommate both let out a high-pitched scream. Then they hugged.

"Monique!"

"Kim!"

"How in the world did we get this?"

"I guess we just got lucky, girl."

They were both laughing when they stepped apart. Monique greeted Kim's family and explained that she had, in fact, moved in earlier that morning. In actuality, she had just barely gotten back from lunch with them, and they were on their way back to Middleton.

"So how's the room?" Kim asked.

"Not all that bad, really. Unless you brought, like, a hundred pairs of shoes or something."

"Monique, you know me..."

"Like I said," she replied with a wry smile. "Anyway, there should be plenty of space for the both of us, so I doubt we'll go stir crazy and strangle each other."

Kim leaned past her friend and looked into the room, and confirmed the assessment. There were a pair of desks (Monique's already had a computer out on it), two beds, and a pair of wardrobes and drawer stacks. Even with the furniture there was still plenty of room to move about. There was only thing missing...

"Monique? Where's the bathroom?"

"Communal," she replied, shaking her head. "Ends of the hall."

She pointed to a door just a few feet away from the stairwell, clearly marked "Bathroom – Girls". The boys room, apparently, was at the other end of the hall.

"Showers, too?"

"Yeah, don't worry, though. I already checked them out, and they're clean, _and_ they have dividers."

"Oh, good."

Kim and Monique looked as if they were about to hit another epic chat session (if there was anyone Kim talked to more than Ron, it was Monique), when Mr. Dr. Possible decided to take charge. Or something like that.

"Uh, Kimmie-cub," Mr. Dr. Possible said, "we really do need to get your stuff up here."

"Need any help?" Monique asked.

"Couldn't hurt," Kim replied. "Every pair of hands helps."

"-and just drop a few siege tanks behind their lines," they heard coming from an open door down the hall. "Remember: flank and rear attacks are your friends."

The man the voice belong to back out of the room and closed the door.

"Ah, freshmen, and StarCraft..."

He was an older student, and obviously no longer a teenager. He had brown hair and a goatee, though the goatee was more of a dark reddish color. He was bespectacled, and was wearing a light blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up, blue jeans, and white sneakers. He was the sort who tended to smile a lot, and would often sport a highly amused expression.

"Actually, hang on just a minute, Kim. Randall!" Monique called out.

The young man turned and started walking towards them.

"Hey, Monique," he said quietly. "I guess your roommate finally arrived."

"Yeah, turns out I'm rooming with that friend from high school I told you about."

"So this must be-" he began as he drew up to them, but Monique cut him off.

"Kim, I'd like you meet Randall West, our floor RA. Randall, this is Kim Possible."

"Of course, the teen hero," he said with a smile, and held out his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Possible."

"Call me Kim," she said, shaking his head.

"I'll do so," he replied wryly, then turned thoughtful. "Wait, if you're _Kim Possible_, then this must be..."

His voice trailed off as he turned towards Mr. Dr. Possible.

"Doctor James Timothy Possible?" he said nervously.

"That would be me."

"Whoah," Randall said, his eyes going slightly wide. "May... may I shake your hand, sir?"

One would almost say he looked slightly fan-boyish.

He seemed somewhat taken aback by this request, but Mr. Dr. Possible still smiled and held out his hand. Randall shook it eagerly.

"Wow... sir, its an honor to get to met the man who practically reinvented the science of hypersonic fluid dynamics and revolutionized space propulsion."

"You're familiar with my work, then?" Mr. Dr. Possible asked, sounding just a wee bit proud of himself. Kim and Mrs. Dr. Possible rolled their eyes.

"Yes, sir. I'm a junior in Aerospace Engineering here, and we have many copies of your papers in our library. I've actually read through several of them, in course of one project or another. Fascinating work."

"Well, I do try my best..."

"Anyway," Kim said loudly. "We do still have to, you know, haul stuff up here..."

The hauling of stuff didn't take as long as they had feared; one of Randall's duties, along with those customary to a Resident Adviser, was to aide his future charges in carrying their things to their rooms. He described it as carrying random heavy objects wherever he was told, and as the only time that freshmen would get to boss him around. During the trip down to the car, and back up again, he alternated between explaining his role as RA and talking shop with Mr. Dr. Possible.

This wasn't just engineer fan-boy hero worship, though there was some of that in there: for him, meeting Dr. James Timothy Possible face-to-face (and getting to shake his hand!) was a case of meeting a living legend. And to have such a legend deign to talk with a mere undergrad...

It was as if Wernher Von Braun, or even Robert H. Goddard himself, had returned from the past to consult with him on rocket theory. He can be forgiven, then, if he carried on in a sort of wide-eyed fashioned.

But that wasn't the whole story, though. He had been a RA the year before, and very quickly recognized in Mr. Dr. Possible a moderately overprotective father. His intent had been to put Mr. Dr. Possible at ease with him, and to try and build up an area of trust. He knew that the last thing Kim needed to deal with would be a hovering father. Best to ensure to the man, right off the bat, that his daughter was in good hands.

Not that he would say that directly of course, as such statements would easily be taken more than one way, and the "bad" interpretation would do nothing to help the situation.

By the time they got the last load of stuff up to the room, it became apparent that he had succeeded in that endeavor. Engineers know when to trust their own.

He took his leave of them and went to introduce himself to another pair of students.

Those who have moved into a dorm already know the words that were exchanged between Kim and her parents. There was one part, though, that was wholly unique to this family.

"Faith, hope, and love, right?" Kim said to her mom as they hugged goodbye.

"That and plenty of chocolate," her mom replied with a wink. "Just be glad you have my metabolism, and not your father's."

Even the tweebs said that they would miss her.

"Oh really?" Kim asked, pretending to sound surprised.

"Yeah. With you gone-"

"-there's no one left to play tricks on."

"Well, Ron's still in town," Kim offered with a shrug. Yes, she realized that she was offering Ron up for sacrifice, but his reaction would be very entertaining to watch.

"Eh, Ron's no fun for that sort of thing," Jim groused.

"Ron? No fun?" Kim remark incredulously. She and Monique traded a look. Ron could be described as many things, but _not fun_ certainly did not top the list.

"Yeah. He doesn't get mad the same way you do," Tim offered by way of explanation.

Kim smiled and gave her brothers a goodbye hug.

"You know, in a strange tweeb way, that was actually sweet."

* * *

So began Kim Possible's first semester of college. It did not pass quickly, for few new things do, though it shall be discussed only briefly, as the troubles of that year came at its conclusion. Still, it would be remiss to not share a few vignettes.

After Kim and Monique had fully moved in and arranged their room to their liking, Kim called Ron and brought him up to date on the situation. He seemed delighted that she had wound up with Monique as a roommate, and termed the situation "majorly cool".

He also, along with Monique, teased her about the many pairs of shoes that she had to send back home. They talked for the better part of two hours, with Kim at one point giving him a virtual tour of the room and the adjoining hallway. It wasn't particularly exciting, but Ron wanted to see where Kim would be living.

He was pleased to discover that Kim had the same picture of them that he had: one taken on graduation day, where he was seated and Kim was hugging him from behind.

In the end they said "I love you" and signed off. Kim needed to track down some books, and Ron's mom wanted him for something or another. The rest of the day, between then and dinner, was spent going over schedules and attempting to figure out where everything was on campus.

That last issue was solved the next day, when Randall took the whole second floor on a bus tour of BAU and a few hot spots in Overton itself. He shared a few stories about the campus, namely how the new stonework was mostly due to the damages incurred during the Diablo incident, and the partly successful efforts of the ROTC cadets and student body to repel the assault.

Trebuchets and flasks of 6 molar HCl apparently worked wonders against Hephaestus circuitry.

They also got their first taste of the unique culture of the campus. Randall informed them that the elaborate tents outside of Geoffrey Hall were not tents _per se_, but were properly called _war pavilions_, and were in fact the work of the history department.

He also explained the large pillar of fire that suddenly sprung up behind Frederick Hall was either the work of the engineering department (this was said with some pride) or the chemistry department. He finally identified it as the work of the chemistry department, since it only lasted a few seconds. Such gouts of flame were apparently quite common around the engineering and sciences buildings, given the distinct lack of concern on Randall's part.

Kim didn't know whether she should be concerned that large explosions were considered non-events, or glad that they apparently didn't cause enough damage to be considered a problem.

* * *

Her first class of the week was HY100, Introduction to World History. It was a Monday-Wednesday-Friday class, which started at 9:15 in the morning. Fortunately, that was the earliest class she had that during that first semester, so she was never low on sleep. It is good to be able to start each day of one's first year of college well-rested.

The professor was one Dr. Felix Crandall. According to what Randall had told her (all of the students on his floor had gotten him to look over their schedules that first Saturday, just to give them a heads up on the professors), he was a very good professor: clear-spoken, engaging, and well versed in his subject matter.

His doctorate was from Harvard.

He was, however, a bit, well, insane. Of course, so was the entirety of the history department.

No one was really sure when it had started, or how exactly it had come about, but there seemed to be an institutional psychosis that afflicted every single teacher of history at BAU, the new ones as well as the legacy professors. No one knew why; a few psychologists had studied it, but they were unable to provide an explanation. It simply _was_, had always been, and would always be so.

Of course, Randall hadn't told Kim, or anyone else, exactly what the psychosis was; he said that it had to be experienced first hand.

At 9:15 A.M., on the dot, that first Monday morning, Kim Possible discovered the true nature of the History Department when a Norse Warrior walked into the room.

Dr. Felix Crandall was arrayed in what looked like leather armor and a series of fur pelts, likely deer. A polished shield was strapped to his back; his feet were girded in boots of animal skin, lined with fur; and he wore upon his head an ubiquitous horned helmet. He looked at the class and uttered a very guttural grunt, one that suggested neither pleasure nor disdain nor you-will-die-as-I-crush-your-skull aggression.

He had also brought with him an old battle-axe.

Then he sent his mother-in-law home (why she was there in the first place, Kim never found out) and drew a large mace from his belt, which he would then wave around and gesticulate with in order accentuate his lectures.

This had two effects: the first, was that every class he taught sat in rapt attention. The second was that next Wednesday nary a soul was to be found in the first row of desks.

It was, after all, a rather large mace.

The entire History faculty was like that. Oh, there were the instances of individual variation, of course; some carried swords, or spears. instead of maces; a few wore war-paint; several of the older professors had capes; and not a few carried real battle-axes, their edges kept sharp and gleaming. These last were greatly feared come finals, and mostly taught upperclassmen.

* * *

Her least favorite class, by far, had to be MA192, otherwise known as Introduction to Calculus. It wasn't that it was a bad class, nor was it that she found calculus to be overly hard. It was just so boring.

Kim had taken a Calculus class her senior year, one which had covered all the basics of the subject, from limits, to derivatives, to integrals, and all the way up to integration by parts. Therefore, when the professor began talking about limits and l'Hospital's rule and other foundational concepts of modern calculus, it was little more than a tedious review exercise to her. Couple that with the fact that the professor was the _single most boring person on the face of the planet_...

It goes without saying that some subjects are just nowhere near as exciting as others, except to certain types of people. Mathematics, despite the fact that it is the foundation of the universe, is one of those subjects. There is very little excitement to be found in crunching numbers, although a proper sort of teacher can can work to make it so.

Kim did not have one of those teachers. Hers was droll, incredibly soft-spoken, and seemed to have a personality that was designed to do little more than suck all the excitement out of the room.

This was also a four day per week class, meeting on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday. By Tuesday, she had already started complaining to Ron about it.

That Wednesday she arrived to class ten minutes early, as was her habit in all her classes. She also carried her kimmunicator with her; while she was technically off-duty for the next few years, given the fact that her famous foes were all in the slammer, she still carried it around 'just in case'. Old habits die hard, and they had always known that Kim Possible would never be able to step away from the hero business completely.

Even so, Wade had set up the site to redirect to the "Team Impossible" section of the Global Justice website for all but a select list of visitors. But that is not important.

What is important is that, less than thirty seconds after Kim sat down in her desk, she heard the kimmunicator vibrating in her backpack (she had it set to vibrate so, on the off chance that she did get a call, it wouldn't disturb the lecture). She pulled it out and saw that she had received a text message, so she pressed the open button to read it.

_Yo, listen up, have a holla' from Ron/_

_I know yo professor, he be dronin'/_

_But why your face sad like a newly minted ronin/_

It was another one of Ron's silly raps, just like the one's he used to leave in her backpack their senior year. This one had much the same effect, leaving her completely and utter charmed, and able to actually get through the boring class with a smile on her face. She thanked Ron profusely shortly thereafter.

A similar rap would arrive on the kimmunicator, without fail, each day of that class for the entirety of the semester.

* * *

Time passed, and the first semester went by at a speed that was slightly greater than that of molasses. Kim and Ron talked at least once a day, and often more. Ron, it turned out, had in fact gotten a job at Bueno Nacho, though this time he made sure that he did not usurp Ned's rightful position as manager. He had even, wonder of wonders, finally traded in that old scooter for an actual motorcycle. It wasn't the newest on the market, nor was it a vintage model, but it would serve to get him from place to place at a speed that was actually faster than he could walk.

They would discuss what college was like, about how the classes and people were so very different from Middleton High, and how it was almost like a different world. These stories were short, and often humorous, generally involving test-time stresses and juvenile pranks from kids who were away from home for the first time.

Ron would also share the stories from his grandfathers tapes; how he spoke of regretting the decision to, if not necessarily cooperate with, then at least not to resist the German invaders. The Sobieski family had been Messianic, not Orthodox, for generations (all the way to well before the twelfth century), and believed in part that this would spare them; in this belief, they were sorely mistaken.

By the time they realized what was happening, it was too late.

Ron told Kim how Wiktor and his entire family had been arrested and, ere the establishment of the Warsaw Ghetto and Treblinka extermination camp, how they all wound up in the Dachau concentration camp in southern Germany. There a number was tattooed on Wiktor's arm.

Those stories, didn't last long, and Ron would only speak of them in general terms, and was uncharacteristically somber throughout the tellings. There was one time, though, when Ron shared with Kim a few verbatim lines.

"_Ronald, I didn't know if I should tell you all of this or not. I'll admit, it hurts to tell it, hurts to remember... but I have to tell it, and you have to hear it, even if it hurts to listen. You have to know where you come from, Ronald. You have to know that evil really does exist in this world, no matter what sophistry is thrown at you, and you have to know what happens when you let that evil continue without a fight._

_'Sometimes you have to fight for the things you love. When you stop fighting, that's when they get to tattoo a number on your arm.'_

Kim knew why he'd shared those words with her. Words like them had been the rationale for their own private crusade.

They both knew that, no matter what the future came, fighting the good fight would be their task. They would look for some measure of peace in life, a place to spend their lives together, but they would never give up the fight.

Still, they tried not to dwell on such things too much. While acts of evil, and the consequences thereof, do need to be contemplated, to do so wearies the soul, and they were both already weary from separation. Their concerns seemed so light and insignificant in comparison, but there it was, and it can be said that Wiktor would not have begrudged them of the light worries. In fact, he would have smiled in delight.

Which meant that tales of Ron's family history were often (read, practically always) followed by talks of how much they missed each other. Charming and adorable text messages, along with long talks into the night, could not substitute for, well, for being _together_. They missed each other's touch, each other's presence.

Kim and Ron both were really, really, looking forward to Thanksgiving. Till then, they called and talked as much as they could, always ending the calls by saying "I love you" (cheesy, yes, but they did enjoy saying it).

Except for around midterms. Kim had begun to stress out a little bit, and actually asked Ron to hold off on calling her for that week, until she could finish the tests. The old Possible single-mindedness at work.

The midterm season ended for Kim, and Monique as well, on Thursday of that week. They returned to their dorm room, and Kim flopped onto her bed even as she pulled out the kimmunicator. The test was one of those where it had gone well, except she didn't _feel _like it had gone well.. The fact was, she felt really lousy about it, and just wanted to hear Ron's voice again, figuring that he would be able to charm her out of her funk.

She called him up. A paper bag mask with two eye holes cut out of it stared back at her from the kimmunicator screen.

She was so startled that she yelped and nearly threw the device across the room. Monique (who was of a similar opinion about her final, except that she had flopped into her desk chair instead of onto a bed), leaned over to see what was going on.

"Whoah there, KP," came Ron's voice. "It's just me."

"Hi!"

"And Rufus."

"Hey, Ron," Kim said, her voice steadying. "You startled me there."

"Yeah, heh-heh. Sorry 'bout that."

"So... why are you wearing a bag on your head, exactly?"

"Well... you remember all that stuff that Drakken was ranting about when we caught him, all those inventions and gadgets that he'd shipped off?"

"His "Legacy"? Ron, what happened?"

"Well, we kinda sorta had a run-in with one of the devices..."

"Oh no," Kim whispered, as visions of Ron horribly scarred or maimed by some horrendous ray of doom paraded through her head.

"Ron, take off the bag."

"KP, I don't-"

"Ron, please," she said gently, interpreting his reluctance as confirmation of her fears. "I need to see if you're alright or not."

"Okay, okay," Ron grumbled, and then he took the bag off.

The difference between the reality and her expectations was so startling that Kim was unable to restrain the giggle that welled up inside her. She placed a hand over her mouth to hold back any further mirth, while Monique just let it all out.

Ron glowered at them both.

"Ron, dear, I'm-"

"You're laughing _at_ me, not _with _me," he groused.

"Well, yeah," Kim admitted. "But I have to ask, why do you have a mullet?"

"Remember how you said that you were worried that we were forgetting something? Well, turns out that something was Motor Ed."

Kim smacked herself on the forehead.

"I dunno what that ray used to do," Ron continued, "but Motor Ed turned it into some kind of mullet ray. He planned to get revenge against his old employer, or something crazy like that, by giving everyone mullets."

"So why am I just hearing about this now?"

"I told Wade that Rufus and I could handle it," Ron said with a smile. "Figured you needed to concentrate on midterms."

Monique started laughing again.

"Ron Stoppable," Kim said, "sometimes you are just too sweet. So... how'd you beat him?"

"Well, Rufus did most of the work," Ron said, patting the naked mole rat on the head. "I just ran around and kept Ed occupied, while Rufus reprogrammed the ray gun."

"What'd he change it to?"

"A baldness ray," Ron said smoothly. "He zapped Motor Ed with it, caused all his hair to fall out. I thought the poor guy was gonna cry."

"Nice move Rufus!"

"Thanks!" squeaked the mole-rat.

"So, Ron," Monique asked, having finally quit laughing, "do I wanna know why you haven't gotten rid of the mullet yet?"

"Calls for a demonstration, Monique," Ron replied. "Rufus, scissors."

Rufus hopped out of the frame and handed Ron a pair of scissors. Ron, without ceremony, took hold of a lock of hair from the back of the mullet and cut it off. It grew back almost immediately.

"Doc says that the effect will last another week or two," Ron commented. "Then I can go back to Ron style."

"No, I think you should keep it," Monique said, deadpan.

"Yeah, the mullet is just so... you," Kim added.

"I should have left the bag on," Ron grumbled. Rufus chattered sympathetically.

Still, despite the teasing and good-natured jabs, Kim and Ron ended the call with their customary "I love you".

* * *

"So, you'll be coming home tomorrow?" Ron had asked hopefully. It was the day before the start of Thanksgiving break.

"Well," Kim replied reluctantly, afraid that she was going to disappoint him. "Ron, I think I'd better just show you."

She got up and carried the kimmunicator over to the windows, and held it up so that that camera was pointing outside. Monique was sitting on her bed, reading a book.

"Huh," Ron said. "That's a lot of snow."

"Four feet of accumulation," Kim said sadly, "with drifts up to six feet."

"I guess you're stuck there, then?"

"Looks like it," she replied, and then turned the kimmunicator back to her.

"Ron, I-"

"KP, listen... if you can't come, you can't come. No use in putting yourself in danger trying to get here. I'd rather wait than have you in a sideways car on a highway somewhere, or trapped in a six foot snow drift. They taking care of you over there?"

"Apparently this isn't all that uncommon; the school is keeping the dorms and dining hall open, and it looks like they have enough food on hand to keep us fed till we dig ourselves out. The city is already powered by one of Rufus' cold fusion reactors, and there are plenty of localized backup systems, so we'll be kept warm."

"See? All the comforts of home," Ron said with a grin.

"Yeah... all except you."

They both flushed bright red and were silent for a moment. Monique smirked, her face hidden behind her book. It wasn't that Kim was lonely, after all, she did have Monique as a roommate, to say nothing of the fact that she had actually made a few new friends from her classes. Nope, no reason at all for her to be lonely.

Yet it just hadn't been the same, especially around Halloween.

Kim looked out the window, at the pure white covering on the ground, and the fur-clad men who were wandering around in it.

"Remember all the times we went sledding, Ron?"

The men were carrying pieces of lumber, along with assorted hand weapons.

"Yeah. Just you, me, Rufus, and the ever-present quest for the ultimate ride."

They looked like they were erecting structures in the yard, old-fashioned huts of some sort.

"Always loved the sledding, never was too sure about the questing," Kim said. "Remember how close we had to sit, just so we would fit on the sled?"

"Don't remind me, KP," Ron said. "I'm Kimsick enough as it is."

She stuck out her tongue at him.

"Ron, all I'm saying is- what in the world are they doing?"

The activity on the lawn had finally caught her attention, and the sight of what had to be the BAU History Department building a replica of a medieval village on the snow-covered lawn was enough to completely derail her train of thought. Her sudden track-jumping even caused Monique to look up from her book (as she figured that there was no more point in covert eavesdropping), and walk towards the window. Kim again held up the kimmunicator so Ron could see what they were seeing, and all three of them were absolutely flabbergasted.

Naturally, they decided to investigate. Kim kept the kimmunicator on as she and Monique threw on their winter coats and exited the dorm room. Kim had already given him a guided-tour-by-kimmunicator, so Ron was able to recognize the blur he saw as the hallway, stair well, lobby, and exit door of the residence hall. The snow covered yard was a definite first, for all three of them in fact, as was what they saw in the yard.

Half the history department was finishing the construction of what looked like an early medieval English village, while the other half was filling the village with snowmen. Every so often they would exchange grunts and wave their weapons at each other in what appeared to be comradely gestures.

"That," Ron said over the kimmunicator, "is one of the strangest things I've ever seen."

"Yeah, no doubt," Kim replied uncertainly.

"You ain't seen nothing yet," came a voice from behind them. Kim and Monique whirled to see to Randall standing there, leaning against one of the building walls and sipping something from a cup. "The fun hasn't even started."

"You've seen this before?" Monique asked.

"A few times. They do it whenever it snows."

"Do what, exactly?" Ron asked, sharing a look, as best as possible, with Kim. He'd already 'met' Randall during a random hallway encounter, so he knew who it was they were talking to.

"Just keep watching. Oh, if y'all get cold, they've got some hot chocolate over there," Randall said, gesturing towards a cluster of Vikings and students. They were standing around a set of wooden kegs which were dispensing hot chocolate instead of beer.

After a few minutes the construction was complete, the professors shooed the students away to a safe spot, and then they gathered together a distance away from their faux village. The head of the department, an older man who would have looked fairly distinguished in other clothing, drew his axe and stood in front of the group. He began to do an impression of what it would look like if George C. Scott had played Patton as a Viking. Of course, he also did this in old Norse.

"What are they saying?" Kim asked.

"Dunno, never have figured that out," Randall said nonchalantly, taking another sip of hot chocolate. "I think it has something to do with bloodlust."

Apparently this was true, if the fierce turn that their expressions had taken was any indication. The department head was yelling something at the top of his lungs and waving his axe in the air. Many of his statements were greeted by great yells and roars from the assembled professors. They had all drawn their own weapons, a bizarre collection of swords, axes, and maces, and several brandished lit torches. These they all thrust into the air in great expressions of battle fury.

Then the speech reached its climax, and the old professor turned away from the crowd towards the village. He cried out one last phrase, swinging his axe above his head as he did so. At the end he let out a wordless roar and pointed his axe at the village; the professors responded with a similar roar and with similar gestures, and then as one they charged the village.

Their swords, axes, and maces hewed the "villagers" into great poofs of snow, and the torches set the wooden huts ablaze as the history department proceeded to loot, pillage, and burn their construction. It was over in about fifteen minutes, and the professors danced and congratulated each other amongst the remains of the slaughtered snow, and then began to march away from the school and into town, intent on paying a visit to their favorite pub. Post-battle celebration, of course.

Kim and Monique stood there, slack-jawed. Randall just took one last sip of hot chocolate and crumpled the empty cup, commenting that it seemed like the professors had slowed down some: it had taken them only _ten_ minutes last year.

"That," Ron said through the kimmunicator, "was the single most disturbing thing I have ever seen. Yet, it was strangely entertaining."

* * *

Like the snow, the rest of the semester came and went. That is to say, finals came and went. College finals are an experience in and of themselves; high school has nothing that can prepare one for them, they simply have to be taken as they come. Fire alarms often go off during finals week, as stressed students take to smoking to relieve the tension. Others choose to yell, or throw things, or have a psychotic episode. Many more, the vast majority of students, simply go through and do it, with no ill effects.

Kim and Monique, for the most part, fell into that latter group. There was one time, though, when they both took a good two minutes and just screamed hysterically, after which Kim called Ron and babbled incoherently for another two minutes, whilst Monique gave one of her pillows the evil eye and began to accuse it of talking smack.

Then they were fine, Ron was very confused, and Kim and Monique got back to studying. They had passed, and survived, their moment of peak stress.

Then, one day, one glorious Wednesday, the Last Final of the Semester was done. To add insult to injury, though, it was an evening final; by the time they finished, it was nearly eight o'clock at night.

It was also one of the classes that Kim and Monique had together, so they returned to their room at the same time, went in, and collapsed on their respective beds.

"Brain... overload..." Kim muttered.

"At least it's over," Monique said. "I say we celebrate."

"Where at?"

"Where else, girl?" Monique said, growing excited. "Club Banana!"

* * *

"You have _got_ to be kidding me," Kim said, as she and Monique stood outside of Club Banana. This was a free-standing building, not a store in a mall. A chill wind blew in the winter air, but the skies were clear, and there was no snow. Just the moon and stars and streetlights.

In this Club Banana, one would not find capris, or tank tops, unless one found them on the patrons; though it would be very hard to find someone crazy enough to wear capris or a tank top during an Overton winter. This Club Banana, in fact, sold no clothes at all.

It was, in fact, a _nightclub_, though one geared towards the almost-out-of-and-just-barely-out-of-high-school demographic. Which meant funky dance tunes and the flashing lights, but no alcohol. Monique explained that it was a new business venture on part of Club Banana corporate, and Overton was one of the flagship locations.

"I gotta show this to Ron," Kim said, and started feeling around her pockets. The searching slowly became frantic, and a look of panic crossed Kim's face.

"Oh no," she whispered. "I left the kimmunicator in the room. Aggh, I told Ron I'd call him when I got done..."

"Calm down, girl," Monique said, talking her by the arm and steering her back towards the open door. "You can call him up when you get back. I'm sure that he'll understand."

"I dunno, Monique..."

"Kim, he'd want you to enjoy yourself right now, alright? Trust me, the Ron we know won't get all tweaked just because you were too brain-tired to remember the kimmunicator."

Kim relaxed, knowing that Monique was right: it was no big. Besides, she'd be seeing him again, in the flesh, the next day. She let Monique direct her into Club Banana.

They were right, of course; it would have been "no big", save for what happened after.

The interior of Club Banana was two-tiered. An elevated eating section surrounded the dance floor on three sides, with stairs leading down to the floor itself. The DJ was playing what sounded like a dance remix of "Naked Mole Rap". That ended shortly after Kim and Monique entered the building, so Kim didn't have much time to wonder exactly how the DJ had acquired a copy of that song.

The DJ launched into something that neither of them recognized, but it had an easy enough beat, so they made their down the steps and out onto the dance floor.

In a way, a fight is somewhat like a dance; you find the the rhythm and go with it, only in the fight you have to deviate from the rhythm somewhat in order to actually get a hit in. Fortunately, in dancing, there is no hitting. It is just finding the rhythm and _moving_ accordingly.

Kim was very good at finding rhythms; years of freak fighting and cheerleading had honed those instincts in her. She moved slowly at first, just trying to catch the beat and learn the rhythm, and also see the movements of those around her. Then after a minute the music began to swell, and she let her eyes close and began to _dance_.

It seemed as if she danced with shadows, for her body moved as if there was someone there with her, pressing against her at times and moving around her at others. Every movement, every sway and gyration, looked as if it was accommodating the presence of a partner.

Ron was in her mind's eye.

They continued throughout a couple more songs, until Kim and Monique were both tired, then they left the floor, purchased a couple of sodas, and claimed a table. They made small talk for the next hour or so, letting the time slip by as they alternated between talking about girl stuff, the past semester, and their plans for Christmas break.

At one point Monique stopped and looked past Kim.

"What is it?"

"I think you've caught someone's eye," Monique said slyly. "Almost "whoah" worthy."

Kim turned to look. A few tables away, seated against a wall, was a young man. He was clearly several years older than Kim or Monique; indeed, he was even older than Randall (who, coincidentally, was on the dance floor). He had dark hair, almost black in color, and he wore black pants, black dress shoes, and a black sport coat, all along with a navy blue sweater. There was a small pin on his lapel, but should couldn't make it out.

He was clearly staring at them, at Kim in particular, though in that slightly off-center way that men do when they don't want their target to know that they're staring. All around, he was a well dressed, clean-cut, pretty-boy.

Kim turned back and looked at Monique.

"So not my type."

"Girl, back in the when, you would have been swooning all over him."

"Key phrase, Monique: "back in the when". That girl was a silly teenager who couldn't see what was right in front of her, and I'm not going back there."

"You've got it bad, don't you?" Monique asked with a grin. Kim flushed and smiled.

"Remember when Hirotaka was in town, and the whole "truly madly" thing?"

"How could I forget? That dude was a player."

"With Ron... I finally figured out what I meant by that."

They continued talking, along the same vein, for a good long while, until Monique realized that their drinks were empty, so she went to get a refill. Kim sat alone at the table, lost in her own thoughts. As had occurred more often than not, those thoughts turned to Ron. At times her memories of him were strong enough to where she could almost conjure his voice out of thin air, or feel his touch out of nothingness...

No, that wasn't a memory. That was a real hand on her shoulder. She turned and saw the man from the table by the wall.

Her breath caught.

_'What in the world?'_

"Excuse me," he said politely. "But you're Kim Possible, right?"

His irises were black as coal, save for a ring of gold that bordered the pupils. He was close enough to where she could see his lapel pin: it was a pyramid, with the top fifth bearing an eye and floating above the rest. She also got a better look at his face.

Indeed he was handsome, but in a way that was almost luciferian. As if there was something lurker beneath the exterior, something that no one would like if they saw it.

"Yes," she replied, her voice shaking, but not from fright or nerves. No, she tremulous for another reason.

Elevated heart rate, elevated blood pressure.

"I thought so," he said, and sat down next to her. He had to pass behind her as he did this, and his hand never left her. No, he gently moved his fingers across her shoulders and the back of her neck, caressing her. Kim trembled at his touch.

"Believe me when I say, Ms. Possible, that I've wanted to meet you for a long time."

_'Why did I blush?'_

There was barely concealed menace in his face.

"What are you doing to me?" she whispered.

Shallow breathing. She wanted to turn away, to get up and smack him, or leave... but she stayed. It was as if her mind had lost all control to something far more primal, leaving her body to run on pure _instinct_.

"Only what is natural, Ms. Possible," he whispered, and leaned towards her, his intentions unmistakable.

She tried to turn away. He smiled.

"You resist. Your mind beats against me," he whispered. "Yet your body will obey my every command..."

* * *

"So, Monique, how were finals?" Randall asked. He'd run into her (not literally) at the soda fountain.

"Way different than High School," she replied, filling up her and Kim's cups. "How were yours?"

"After three years... 'bout normal," he said with a grin. "You get used to it after awhile"

"Uh-huh," Monique said dubiously. "'bout like you getting used to being on that dance floor?"

"Saw me, did ya?"

"You dance like a white boy," she snarked, but only because Randall would take it well.

"News flash, Monique," Randall replied as he put the cap on his own soda. "I _am_ a white boy."

"Really? I wouldn't have-" Monique was cut off when she saw a camera flash out of the corner of her eye. She turned towards it, reflexively, but never saw the camera.

Instead she saw Kim, her face flushed and body trembling, as she pulled away from having kissed the stranger who'd been staring at her. The man grinned, in a manner like unto a wolf, whispered something into her ear, and then got up and walked towards the door.

Monique dropped the drinks in shock.

Kim's face turned from the flushed expression of bliss to one of utter horror.

"Go," Randall said. "Take care of her."

Monique started towards Kim, then turned to ask Randall what he was doing... but he was already headed after the stranger.

* * *

Randall West was angry. College was supposed to be a _fun_ time, for crying out loud. Hard, yes, Difficult, certainly. But it was supposed to be _fun_, and his "kids" shouldn't have to worry about running into some kissing bandit while having fun.

He was from Georgia, and fancied himself a gentleman of olden times.

She was Kim Possible, teen hero, and daughter of one of the greatest engineering minds of the age.

What he'd just seen had offended him on so many levels it wasn't even funny.

The look of a predator had been on the other man's face, and Randall had seen that look before. He'd even had one on his floor the year prior; that situation had ended in a fist-fight on the quad, when he'd caught the guy about to prey on another student.

Memories of that fight flooded his mind as he stepped out into the cold night and caught sight of the stranger weaving amongst the parked cars. Randall broke into a run as the stranger pulled out a cell phone.

He closed the distance quickly, yet the stranger was able to walk out of view behind a SUV. Randall ran around to where the man had been.

No one was there. Only the cell phone, lying on the ground. Randall bent over to pick it up, but he felt the heat pouring out from it, and was able to withdraw his hand before it melted into flame and bright light.

_'Magnesium filament,' he realized. 'Probably thermite, extreme exothermic reaction... yeah, I recognize this from chemistry class._

_'Where did you go to?'_

He searched the parking lot for a few minutes, but found nothing, and went back inside to collect his two students.

He found Monique talking with Kim, who seemed fairly composed, all things considered.

"Kim," he asked, kneeling down next to her, "what happened?"

"I have no idea," she replied, holding back a few sniffles. "It... it was like I just went haywire, and couldn't control my own actions."

"Some kind of mind control chip?" Monique asked. "Like those moodulator things?"

"No, it wasn't that... I-" she stopped, at a loss for words.

Randall nodded in understanding.

"Kim, Monique... get your coats on. My car is outside, and I'm taking you two back to the campus."

They nodded.

"Kim, did you get his name?"

"He never said it."

* * *

They were silent on the ride back. It was nearly ten, all three were alternately tired and running on adrenaline, neither of which made for good conversation. Randall kept a close eye on them, and escorted them the whole way from the parking deck to their dorm room. He only left when he heard the door lock, and then it was to find the security guards, give them as good a description as he could, and post someone to keep an eye on the grounds.

They wound up posting one of the Marine ROTC cadets. He volunteered to spend the rest of the night watching the hall.

In the meantime, Kim picked up the kimmunicator, wanting nothing more than to talk to Ron. There was a light flashing, though: she had messages.

"_KP, it's Ron," _the first message said. _"If I'm reading the clock right, then you should be getting back from your last final around now. Give me a call when you get in. Love you, bye."_

She checked the time. Missed him by ten minutes.

The second was a half-hour after the first.

"_KP? Yeah, it's me again. I guess you're probably in the bathroom or something, or eating. Yeah... give me a call when you get back in. Love you."_

The third came an hour after that.

"_KP? Eh, I'll bet you've gone off an left the kimmunicator in your dorm, haven't ya? Eh, no worries, I guess I'm rubbing off on you a little bit too much! Anyway, call me when you get in, no matter the time. I've got some great news for you. I love you."_

The last had arrived not five minutes prior to when they'd returned to the school.

"_KP?" _said Ron, and Kim gasped at the brokenness in his voice. _"KP, I uh... I just got this picture in my e-mail, and... Kim, is someone playing a joke here? Call me ASAP... please... I love you."_

_'God help me, he sounds so desperate.'_

Immediately she called him up. It took a moment, but he responded.

"KP!"

He looked a bit disheveled, as if he'd just started changing into his pajamas.

"Ron!" Kim said, then words just began pouring out in a quick babble.. "Ron I'm sorry I was tired and Monique and I went out and I left the kimmunicator here by mistake and I was going to call you but I forgot and and I'm so sorry-"

"Whoah, KP, no big on the call," Ron said, trying to smile.

Kim smiled and nodded. Then she said what she dreaded.

"Ron, that picture... what is it?"

"Uh...," Ron replied, sounding very uncomfortable. "Here, let me send it to you..."

The screen flashed a few times, and then the pictured appeared in place of Ron, and Kim closed her eyes sadly.

"KP, this is a joke, right?"

"I wish it were," she whispered. "Ron... it's real."

He looked like was going to cry.

"But it's not what you think," she said quickly, and then told him the whole story of what had happened at Club Banana.

He was silent, for a time.

"So... you have no clue what happened?"

"None whatsoever. It was like the moodulator... only worse."

Ron nodded.

"Okay. I'll... I'll have Wade run a track on this picture. I think Romeo and I need to have a little meeting."

"Mind if I watch?" she asked rhetorically. "So... what's your big news?"

"Well... it's getting late, KP. I'll tell you tomorrow, when we're both a bit more awake."

She smiled and touched where his face was on the screen.

"I'll see you then," she said, in much the same tone as she had used when under the effects of the moodulator.

"Tomorrow it is, then," Ron said, and then started to yawn. "Oy, time for bed in Middleton. Good night, KP."

"Good night Ron," she replied. "Ron?"

"Yeah?"

"_I love you._"

For a brief, hard moment, she was afraid he was going to just say good night again and hang up. Then he smiled, and looked at her with those warm, caring eyes... but was that something behind them? Only fleeting, but what was it? Almost a reduction in warmth, a brief flicker of... mistrust?

"Love you too, KP," he said, and she knew he meant it. She also knew, as he signed off, that he was hurt, and hadn't fully believed her story.

_'And why should he?'_ she thought as she fell into bed, too tired to be angry. _'It's not like I don't have a track record of lying to him or shoving him aside for the next big hotness...'_

* * *

It was fortunate that she had packed the day before, as Kim slept little, and what little sleep she had was fitful with worries and trepidations. Monique's parents had arrived early, and Kim helped her friend to load up. They said their good-byes, at least until they saw each other back in Middleton.

"Don't worry, Kim," Monique said after giving her a hug. "Ron'll be fine. The two of you will be fine. He was just tired, is all."

"I know. I can still worry though; I can do anything!"

"That's the spirit," Monique said with a laugh, then turned serious again. "He's crazy about you, you know."

"I know. Thats why, when we find whoever-that-was, I'm going to beat him to within an inch of his life."

Monique had left shortly thereafter, and Kim sat the dorm room alone, waiting for her dad to arrive. He showed up a bit before eight, and they had the car loaded and were on the road by eight thirty. Randall helped.

The story of what had happened at Club Banana was on the radio news.

Mr. Dr. Possible told her that the pictures had made the front page of the gossip section of several major newspapers, though the Middleton Times had refused to run them.

Kim alternated between fear and anger; fear of how Ron might react, if he considered the events of Club Banana a full-fledged regression into her old behaviors, and anger, since someone was clearly playing them.

And Kim Possible did not like to played, and she really didn't like being played when it broke her boyfriend's heart.

END CHAPTER 2


	3. Remorse

Author's Note: It's an interesting thing, fandom. At the time of this writing, "The Fallen" is at 3084 hits and 58 reviews, "Aftermath" is at 218 hits and 9 reviews, and "College Days" is at 371 hits and 7 reviews. In contrast, my Star Wars stories have a _combined _hit total of 19, and exactly one review between them. Go figure.

Campy: Good. I was going for creepy. More to come with this guy. Though I would say he's Mephistopheles, though comparing him to Prince Xixor wouldn't be too far off.

RamaFan: You are quite right. The 6800 count reflects only the number of undergraduates who live on campus, either in the residence halls or ROTC barracks. This number does not included fraternity/sorority housing, off-campus students, non-traditional students, or graduate students. The total number of students is approximately 18240, give or take. Not quite AU levels, but it more than doubles my alma mater. Chalk it up to imprecise wording on my part. I'll probably go back and fix that once the story is finished.

Aimtbj: Not telepathy, no. You'll find out what in this installment.

MrDrP: The sole reason why I set the driving time at four hours was because that was how long it took for me to get from home to college. No other reason, just drawing on my own experiences, as I did for a few of the slice-of-life parts. There is method to my madness, though I'll grant that it ain't exactly the best method... Still, thanks for pointing this out. It actually helped me to figure out how to play something in this chapter.

On to Chapter 3, then. Funny, this was originally conceived as a three-parter, and now it's expanded to four, along with a possible coda.

* * *

_"Love... is not provoked, does not take into account a wrong suffered, does not rejoice in unrighteousness, but rejoices with the truth..." 1 Corinthians 13:4, 5-6_

**Chapter 3: Remorse**

They spent most of the drive to Middleton in silence. Mr. Dr. Possible attempted to engage his daughter in conversation, several times in fact, but Kim didn't seem to be in the mood for talking. All he got out of her was a confirmation that, yes, the pictures in the papers were real, and no, she had no idea why she had kissed the guy in the first place. She then declared the subject to be closed, and retreated into silence to brood over what had happened.

A time of silence can be incredibly useful for pondering an issue. It can also be incredibly dangerous, for in a silent mind bereft of external counsel our worst irrational fears can come to the fore, and turn ruminations to unwarranted darkness. By the time they reached Middleton itself, she had nearly convinced herself that Ron was so upset that he would want nothing more to do with her.

The radio didn't help. Mr. Dr. Possible had tried to lighten the mood by changing from the news station to a few music stations, but it seemed like every single pop song, country song, and rock song in existence was about someone breaking up with someone else because the else was a cheating liar.

In frustration he switched to NPR, figuring he had a fifty-fifty chance of catching either political commentary or classical music. Turned out they were on their classical segment, and were in fact running a "Mozart Week", and were beginning that day with a playing of his famous Requiem, which was already in progress..

"_Dies irae! Dies illa! Solvet saeclum in favilla, teste David cum Sibylla! Quondos tremor est futurus, quando judex est venturus, cuncta stricte discussurus!"_ came forth from the speakers.

"Oh, for crying out loud!" Mr. Dr. Possible cried as he shut the radio off. Kim just started laughing at the absurdity of it all. Not only were the 'O Boyz' apparently on her case, but now she was practically being mocked, in Latin, by a dead Austrian composer! Or maybe that was just her own fears talking.

Day of wrath and impending doom indeed.

It seemed to her, as at last they entered Middleton and reached the Possible residence, that her fears were confirmed. Her mother, the tweebs, even Nana Possible, were there to great her.

Ron was nowhere to be seen.

Kim felt herself deflate some, but then she gathered up her courage and buried her fear, and put on a brave face with which to greet her family.

They all hugged and told Kim how much they had missed her (even the tweebs did this). Nana Possible explained that she had decided to come up from Florida a few weeks early, so as to welcome Kim back from her first semester of college. She also made Kim promise to tell her everything about it.

Mrs. Dr. Possible, for her part, reported upon being asked that she hadn't seen Ron all day. Kim nodded, quietly, and the party began to walk towards the house. So that was it, then. Ron was upset enough to where he needed a few days to-

RRRRRRRRR.

Kim turned and looked down the street. A single motorcycle, old fashioned but stylish, colored black, was heading towards the house, its rider's face obscured by a black helmet. She didn't need to see his face, though, as she'd recognize that jersey anywhere.

He pulled up to the bottom of the driveway and parked the bike, waiting until the engine had stopped before he dismounted. He looked a little bit sheepish as he took off the helmet, and his hair was a bit more mussed than normal, but all that Kim noticed was that he was smiling, brightly, as he looked at her.

"Hey KP," Ron started, "sorry I'm late, but- mmmph!"

He was cut off when Kim crossed the distance in the blink of eye, pounced on him, and kissed him. Hard, and with much passion.

Nana Possible laughed quietly and then began to steer the rest of of her family into the house, declaring that it was obvious that Kimberly Anne and Ronald needed some 'them' time. Jim and Tim followed her in, declaring that they needed to get away from the sight before they hurled.

"Your mom's right, dear," Mrs. Dr. Possible said, taking her husband's arm and leading him towards the door. "They need some alone time."

She leaned her head against his shoulder.

"It's hardly alone time, honey, they're snogging in the _driveway_," Mr. Dr. Possible grumped as they passed through the entrance. This was said just for old time's sake, as Mr. Dr. Possible being grumpy about Kim and Ron had taken on the form of an inside joke. Not that he was entirely pleased about them getting with the kissy-face in the driveway, out in public, but given how worried Kim had been, he decided to let it slide.

At last, well after everyone else was inside, Ron pulled away from the kiss and took a single, ragged breath. Her arms were around his neck and shoulders, and his hands were resting on her waist.

"Warn me next time you do that," he said plaintively.

"Why?" Kim asked, with an impish smile.

"'Cause if I get the chance to take a breath beforehand, I'll last longer," Ron declared. "Y'know, I had this whole big speech prepared, but I seem to have forgotten it."

"Gee, I wonder what could have caused that," Kim whispered. "You must getting forgetful in your old age, Stoppable."

"Somethings I wish I could forget," he said quietly. Kim lowered her eyes and leaned in, resting her forehead against his, and her arms tightened around him.

"Are you upset about that picture?" she asked, hesitantly.

"Maybe a little," he conceded. "At least, I was when I went to bed last night, but I realized something when I woke up this morning."

He shifted his head a bit, and she lifted up her eyes to meet his gaze.

"I realized," he said, "that today was the day that you were coming home, and I was really, _really_, looking forward to seeing you again. The picture didn't matter, last night didn't matter, all I knew was that I hadn't held you since August, and that _wild monkeys_, much less some picture, couldn't keep me away from you."

"Have I told you that you are a wonderful man?"

"I have my moments," Ron said modestly. "KP, listen... I won't say that the picture doesn't bother me... but if you say that you don't know what happened, then... I believe you."

Kim closed her eyes and smiled, and leaned against him, letting his body and arms support most of her weight.

"Ron, take a breath."

"Why?"

"Because I'm going to kiss you again," she declared. He complied, and she did so. When they were finished Ron looked past her and grinned.

"I think they want us to come inside," he observed.

"What makes you say that?"

"Your dad is glaring at us through the window," Ron said, pointing. Kim turned her head just in time to see the curtains fall back into place. She shook her head and turned back to Ron.

"What if I want to kiss you more?"

"Normally there'd be no argument here," Ron said, "but if your Nana brought lemon squares..."

"You goof," Kim laughed, kissing him on the cheek and then moving to his side. "Walk me in?"

He offered her his right arm, and she linked her left arm around his elbow, and wrapped her right around his upper arm and pulled herself close to him, and Kim leaned her head against his shoulder as he lead her into the house.

Nana Possible had indeed made lemon squares. All was right with the world.

* * *

Ron had explained, over lunch, that he'd been late to Kim's homecoming because his mom had asked him to run a short errand that morning, and he'd gotten caught in traffic. Some nut had apparently forgotten how to park a stick-shift on hilly terrain, and his empty car had wound up backing into traffic, causing a T-bone and secondary three-car pileup that had stalled traffic in downtown for the better part of an hour.

At about that point in the conversation Rufus, who had been asleep in Ron's pocket, finally woke up and crawled out. First he scampered over to Kim and up her arm, and gave her a little hug.

She patted him on the head.

Rufus then scampered back down her arm and over to Nana Possible and gave her a hug. Then he ran back onto the table and started 'attacking' the lemon squares, thus explaining the reason for the hug.

Ron admonished him to save some for the rest of them. He was one to talk, of course, having already devoured five.

He also explained his big news: he had gained admittance to the Lowerton School of Culinary Arts, starting that next semester. He was already a very talented cook, but figured that he could use the training to expand his repertoire of recipes and techniques.

"Besides," he added with a laugh, "I can afford it."

Kim gave him a congratulatory kiss on the cheek. The rest of the family stuck with handshakes and verbal affirmation.

It took a while before they figured it out, but Kim and Nana finally realized that the Commandant of the NROTC cadets at BAU was one of Nana's old mates from BUD/S. Kim promised to look him up when she returned to the campus.

Wade called during lunch, both to welcome Kim back and to tell them that he hadn't yet discovered who the man was in the picture. Not even a search of the databases of the FBI, CIA, Mossad, GJ, NSA, MI6, MI5, DGSE, BND, FSB, GRU, and SVR yielded any information, much less a name. Wade even took the unconventional and risky approach of hacking into HenchCo's database, but even that turned up short.

The man in the picture was a cypher. Nana Possible especially looked uncomfortable about that; of all them she knew best how dangerous an unknown player could be.

He couldn't even get the name of the person who took the picture in the first place, but he promised to keep looking. Kim and Ron thanked him, though Kim pretended to be offended that he hadn't been there to greet her in person.

Wade explained that he had a cold, or the flu, or something like that, and really didn't need to leave the house. He even sneezed a few times, for their benefit. They told him to get better, and then signed off and returned to lunch.

By that time, Rufus had eaten the last of the lemon squares, and was lying immobile at the bottom of the pan. Ron just shook his head in wonderment, while the rest of the Possible family stared at the swollen mole-rat.

They were much relieved when Nana revealed she had another batch waiting in the oven.

* * *

All was fine, for a week or so. Oh, there was the occasional undercurrent of tension, a few furrowed brows that could be taken in any one of a hundred ways, about half of them bad. But the fact that Kim and Ron were indeed in love with each other helped them through any rough spots.

The only major rough spot they had during that first week was Ron's reluctance to let Kim ride with him on his new motorcycle. It would safely seat two, but Ron, for some reason, didn't trust himself to carry Kim on it. She pointed out that this was quite ridiculous, as he had balanced the scooter just fine with rockets attached to it, and this could not be any riskier than that had been. Finally he consented and spent that Saturday driving her around town.

She let herself rest against him on the bike, trusting him completely. No harm could come to her when Ron was around.

She was not the only one who shared in this opinion.

* * *

They went on a date the next Friday, which was the sixteenth of December. It was nothing fancy, just another trip to Bueno Nacho. It was six P.M., and already dark due to the early sunset, when Kim and Ron entered the fast-food restaurant. They made their customary order (two naco-chimmerito combos, grande sized, and an order of cheesy nachos for Rufus), and sat down at their customary booth. Some would say that they were stuck in a rut.

Perhaps that was true. Still, they enjoyed the familiarity. As one can imagine, they spent the entirety of the date talking and trading stories of the past four months (and change). They talked intently, and listened intently; in fact, they were so intently focused on each other that they missed two things.

The first was when Monique entered the restaurant, looking for a late-night snack (her parents were out on a date of their own). In fact, she sat down right behind Ron, and didn't catch either's attention until she thwapped Ron on the ear. That exchange was quite humorous to behold.

The second thing they didn't notice was that the man who was sitting behind Kim had been reading the same two pages of his newspaper for the past hour.

As with all excursions to a fast-food restaurant, the time came when Kim and Ron ran out of drink. Ron, attempting to be the gentleman, took both their cups and went to the soda fountain to refill (Rufus rode along in his pocket, having eaten his fill of nachos). Monique, by excuse of her drink being empty as well, got up and followed him. She had already heard from Kim how things had gone with Ron, and now the she wanted to get the story "from the horse's mouth", so to speak.

Kim began to feel a sense of deja vu.

"At last, Ms. Possible," came a whispered voice from behind her. "I was thinking he'd never leave. Did you miss me? I missed you."

She remembered that voice.

_'Ron, help me,'_ she thought desperately. She was feeling it again, the same bizarre subjugation of her reasoning mind to something... instinctive. No, not instinctive, she realized, that was the wrong word. Something sexual, an urge that she couldn't define, much less fight, for its source was external to her.

She wanted to turn and hit him, but found that she couldn't; she actually made a fist and reared her arm back, but found that she was unable to go through with the attack. She wanted to call for Ron, to get him to come running and help her... but she found that she didn't want to enough to actually do it.

"Who are you?" she whispered.

"Not really important, Ms. Possible," he replied, turning towards her. "You're going to kiss me anyway."

"No, I... look, I don't know what you want, but don't do this, not here, not in front of Ron..."

"My dear Ms. Possible," the stranger continued, "this won't work if it's not in front of Mr. Stoppable. Besides, you know you want to."

It was worse than last time. Then, she felt outside of herself, as if she was a mere spectator watching her own actions. Now, she knew what he was going to do... and she felt herself beginning to _want_ it. She was fully aroused, now; she didn't know why, but she found it intoxicating.

_'Ron. Remember Ron. Keep his face in front of you, remember his touch...'_

"You never could resist the handsome men, could you, Ms. Possible?" the man said with a smile. He leaned over the back of their seats, towards her, and Kim began to lean towards him.

She tried to stop herself.

_'Ron... remember Ron.'_

She couldn't.

_'Ron... I'm sorry.'_

Their lips touched.

_'Ron...'_

The last facets of her will succumbed.

_'Ron who?'_

* * *

"Seriously, though, the two of you are okay?" Monique asked.

"Mon, I've told ya a hundred times already," Ron replied exaggeratedly, as he refilled Kim's soda. "We. Are. Fine. Gonna take more than some kissing bandit to get between the two of us. Besides, you know that if that guy turns up again Kim'll just go all badical kung-fu on him."

"I'm just making sure," Monique said. "Somebody's gotta watch out for the two of you."

"And we thank you for that," Ron said with a grin, as he put the cap on Kim's drink. "Seriously."

"What are friends for?" Monique replied as she finished refilling her own drink. She then saw Ron stiffen as he turned back towards the booth.

She turned to look.

_'Not again.'_

Kim and the stranger, the same one from Club Banana, were slowly pulling away from each other. Kim's chest was heaving, and the look in her eyes...

Monique had seen Kim and Ron kiss a few times before. The look she saw, that Ron saw, on her face was a look that she had only ever given Ron after they'd kissed. Now, it was given to another, to some random stranger.

"Monique," Ron said, his voice strangely calm. "Did you drive or walk over here?"

"I... I drove."

"Take Kim home, please."

"Sure... you got it..."

"Thank you."

Ron strode up to the table, his face still unnervingly calm and neutral. The stranger looked up at him with a smirk, while Kim looked at him with an expression of disinterest.

Ron placed her soda on the table.

* * *

"Here's your drink," she heard him say, and then she watched as Ron walked out the door.

Then the spell lifted, and the events of the past few moments came crashing down on her mind. She didn't bother trying to attack the stranger, she simply got up and ran out the door, intent on getting to Ron and sorting this out.

Monique, also ignoring the stranger, came after her.

His face had been so calm, so neutral, that only someone who knew him as well as Kim did could have seen what was beneath it.

She exited the building and saw Ron about to put his helmet on. She called his name as she ran, and he turned to look at her.

The look on his face was no longer hidden, and it was a look of such utter despondency that her breath caught, and she was brought up short in her approach. Suddenly, she had no idea what to say.

"Ron," she said quietly, trying to convey in her face and voice that what he'd seen had not been what it had looked like.

He looked at her for a long moment, his face never changing, though Kim could tell that words were warring with each other behind his eyes, each thought jockeying to be ones that he would utter to her.

"I believed you," he said at last, his voice bitter and sad, and very final. "If this is how it is, fine. But I figured you would have had the guts to just come out and _say _it, rather than lie to me and arrange this little demonstration."

She could tell that he wanted to say more, but he did not; instead he donned his helmet and mounted his bike.

Kim whispered his name as Ron rode off into the darkness.

She stood there in shock, frozen in place both by the look on Ron's face, the bitter sound of his words, and by the fact that her body was still recovering from its earlier stimulation. She remained there, standing in place in the parking lot, until Monique came up to her and took her by the arm. Kim then fell limp against her friend, and Monique turn to look back at Bueno Nacho, trying to get a glimpse of the person who had caused all of this.

He had already disappeared. The booth he sat in would later have to be replaced, due to a cell phone sized hole that had been burned into the seat.

* * *

"Ron!" Mr. Stoppable called from the living room, as Ron walked into the house. "Are you all right?"

"I don't wanna talk about it," Ron growled.

"But Ron-" Mrs. Stoppable began.

"I said I don't wanna talk about it," Ron repeated as he stormed up the stairs towards his room.

* * *

"Oh, hello Monique," Mrs. Dr. Possible said brightly as she opened the door. "I'm sorry but, Kim isn't- Kimmie!"

The last was said in surprise as she realized that Kim was standing there behind Monique. Then surprise faded to concern as she noticed the look on her daughter's face. She wanted to ask, right then and there, what had happened, but first she got Kim and Monique inside the house and seated on the couch.

Kim proceeded to tell them everything. Every detail, how how she'd wanted to fight the stranger off but couldn't, how she wanted to call for Ron but didn't, and worst of all, how at the end she'd actually wanted to kiss him, and even enjoyed it. She felt real shame at that, even though she knew she hadn't been herself. Still, that action had hurt Ron, and that was enough.

The family was quiet for a time, once Kim had finished her story. Mr. Dr. Possible looked about ready to go for someone's throat, Nana Possible just looked saddened, and Mrs. Dr. Possible had a hard, yet thoughtful, expression.

It seemed as if she was mulling something over in her head, though her eyes never left her daughter. At last she rose to her feet and walked over to the telephone. She picked it up and called the hospital.

"Claire?" she said when the operator answered. "It's Dr. Possible... well, it could be better... anyway, who's on call for the chem lab tonight? Greg? Do you know what his workload is... great. Tell him that I'll be there in ten minutes, that we'll be coming in the back way, and that he had better have the lab ready when I get there. Thanks, Claire."

She hung up and turned back to Kim.

"Okay, Kimmie, time to get to the bottom of this."

"You have something in mind, dear?" Mr. Dr. Possible asked.

"Just a hypothesis," she replied with a smile.

* * *

The rear entrance to Middleton Hospital was only for use of the staff. Its intent was to allow the doctors and nurses fast access to the facilities without having to wade through vast crowds of incoming and outgoing patients, distraught and nervous family members, random crowds, and the occasional bit of paparazzi. Kim knew the entrance well; her mother was not above taking advantage of it to get family in quickly, and Kim herself had been brought through that entrance no less than three times prior.

Dr. Greg (he had a last name, but insisted that everyone call him Dr. Greg) didn't ask too many questions about the breach of procedure, but quickly and professionally took a blood sample from Kim and set about performing the analysis that Mrs. Dr. Possible requested. He informed them that it would take a few hours, maybe more, to finish the tests, so Mrs. Dr. Possible and Kim left the lab and made camp, so to speak, in the doctor's lounge.

It was well after seven P.M., but the last half-hour had left Kim so emotionally spent that she felt like it was nearly midnight. Her heart was tired, from shock and sorrow, and shear confusion.

How? How could he have just turned away and ridden off like that?

_'Okay, think this one through, Possible,'_ she thought to herself, through closed eyes. _'You know perfectly well what it must have looked like from his point of view... 'sides, you know what face you made when whoever that was kissed you. _

_'And let's face it, you could have come home anytime you wanted, especially during those long weekends. Got a lot of studying done, but maybe if you'd been _here_ with him instead of on campus being little miss studious..._

_'You know how Ron feels about you: he'd rip his own heart out before he'd let anyone hurt you. Didn't he do that much when you went all ga-ga over Erik?'_

And there was the crux of it, she knew. Her running off and leaving Ron behind for Josh, or Erik, or whatever other cute guy came along and caught her eye was far more in line with her past behavior than the past year and a half had been. Even though she knew that she would never do such a thing now, she understood why, and how, Ron had jumped to that conclusion. The stranger had been right: she had never been able to resist the handsome men.

Until she found something more worthwhile to love: a beautiful heart, and a noble soul.

Her being gone for the whole semester, even when she could have come back at any time, someone sending the picture, Ron's natural skittishness, and then the attack at Bueno Nacho... all had combined to lead up their current situation.

_'It's not his fault. What he saw... gosh, Ron, it must have felt like I locked you in that closet again, never mind that the first time was an accident. You told me once-'_

"Penny for your thoughts?" her mom said from the seat next to her. Kim smiled and opened her eyes. Better to talk to her mother than keep it all bottled up inside.

"Just worrying about Ron, that's all."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah... you sound surprised."

"Well, I would have figured that you'd be mad at him for having left you at Bueno Nacho like that."

"I probably could be," Kim said as she leaned her head against the wall. "But he was mad, Mom. I could see it, and I guess that he decided he didn't need to have me on the bike while he was angry. Besides, he was the one who asked Monique to take me home."

"He did?"

"He did. He was madder than I've ever seen him, but according to Monique, his first thought was to take care of me. How can I stay mad at that? Besides, if I stopped talking to him every time he misinterpreted something and got some whack notion stuck in his head, then we would have never made it this far."

"You really love him, don't you?" Mrs. Dr. Possible quietly asked.

Kim nodded, and then leaned forward.

"Yeah. Which made the hurt in his eyes really, really hard to take. Mom, we've been mad at each other before, and I've thrown some stupid stuff at him before, but this..."

_'He feels like I stabbed him in the back.'_

"Kimmie..." Mrs. Dr. Possible began when she grew silent, but Kim started talking again before she could get any further.

"Did I ever tell you," she began, "that I locked him in a janitor's closet once?"

"You what?"

"It was the big Spirit Dance our freshman year. You remember, the one where I was constantly trying to get the courage to ask Josh Mankey to go to it with me. Well, I did... and in the process I locked Ron in a janitor's closet at school! He'd been there encouraging me the whole time, and I completely forgot about him when I was having my fun. Didn't even think about him until after the dance was over and I'd gotten back home."

Mrs. Dr. Possible was looking at her daughter in surprise. She remembered that dance, but she hadn't heard this particular story.

"What did you do then?"

"What else? I snuck out of the house, broke into the school, and got him out of there... Dad doesn't have to know about that, by the way," she added, sounding embarrassed, but nowhere near as much as she had been when confessing to the deed in the first place. "Bought him a naco, took him home, snuck back into the house, and went to bed. I'll never forget his face when I opened that door...

"The thing is, that was pretty much the pattern till junior prom: Ron would be there for me, risking his life on occasion... and I'd shove him aside when he became 'inconvenient', and then try and smooth it over with cheap Mexican food. Yeah... some times, I really stank as a friend."

"You both had your moments, Kimmie," her Mom said soothingly, "and still he loved you through all of it. Oh, don't be surprised; I had that boy read the first day he came over to visit. All that surprised me was how long it took the two of you to figure it out."

"He was afraid," Kim said quietly, staring at the floor. "By the time it mattered... we'd gotten so close as friends that he was afraid of what might happen if - we had a talk about this, after the junior prom, and he told me - if we tried to take it the 'next level' and it tanked. That's what took him so long; he was afraid if he went any further, then he might lose me.

"What took _me _so long was that I was a stupid, shallow, teenage girl so caught up in social stature, _food chains_, and pretty faces that I couldn't see who was right beside me."

Kim started to tear up, and her mother placed and arm around her and drew her in close.

"He's always been there for me, Mom. No matter when I did something stupid, like going on a date with Josh Mankey when he was off in the Amazon trying to find the one plant that would save my life, he would always be there the next day. I'm not gonna loose him, Mom. There's no one in this world who can stand with me like he can. Actually, there's no one else who I'd _want_ to stand with me. I love _him_..."

The last few lines had been said in a whisper, for Kim's weariness of heart had finally caught up with her, and her head sank into her mother's lap as she drifted off into a sudden and troubled sleep.

* * *

"Oh, yeah, great plan," Shego growled from her cell. "Spend a year building hundreds of world-conquering and generally evil devices. Who cares if we get thrown in jail then, we'll just break out and move on to the next ready-made plot! _Wonderful_ plan, Dr. D."

"Do you have to keep harping on that, Shego?" Drakken growled back at her. "How was I supposed to know that they would put us in an escape-proof jail?"

"Don't look at me, you're supposed to be the genius around here."

"And don't you forget it!" Drakken replied imperiously. "True genius is always disrespected in its own time."

"I think you mean 'rarely respected', not 'always disrespected.'"

"But that was grammatically correct!"

"True. But the wording was somewhat awkward, and the whole concept was a bit off."

"SHEGO! Just for that, you don't get Iceland!"

"Right... and that changes my current situation _how, _exactly?"

Drakken just glowered across the hall at her, and then turned his back to her.

"Quiet, Shego. I'm _plotting_."

"New escape attempt?"

"Sixty-fifth time's the charm," he confirmed. "If I combine this ordinary drinking straw, which I smuggled in from the dining hall, with two washers from this ordinary toilet-"

"Dr. D!" Shego interrupted. "Hush a second."

"Shego-"

"I said quiet," she hissed. "There's something going on."

Her trained ears had picked up sounds coming from the guard shack: a ringing telephone, some kind of energy discharge... and then sounds of surprise, a struggle, and finally the muffled reports of two shots from a silenced firearm.

Drakken, trusting her instincts, had dutifully shut up. Shego listened hard, and heard the firearm make one more profound argument for the admission of its wielder... and then she saw the door to the guardroom open, and watched as an evilly handsome man stepped out into the corridor.

Had she, or Drakken, or any of the inmates in prison been paying attention to the news, they would have recognized the man with the gun as the one who had kissed Kim Possible at Club Banana.

He holstered the gun and walked towards Drakken's cell. Drakken stood up to face him.

"Dr. Drakken," the man began, "my name is Phillip Sparks. I'm here to get you out."

"Shego too," Drakken stated. It was not a request.

"Of course," Sparks replied politely. "We can use Ms. Shego's help as well. Hang on just a moment, and I'll have these doors open."

He had taken the keycards from the guards he'd killed, and just as he said was able to open their cell doors in the space of a breath. The cards, of course, were only half the equation, but not even a Wade Load-designed security system was hack-proof, and Panther had some very good slicers at its disposal.

A second keycard swipe removed the bindings that restrained Shego's meteor power.

When they were out in the hallway, Sparks handed Shego a cell phone.

"Press one," he instructed, "and then hit the dial button. Quickly, please, Ms. Shego; we don't have a lot of time."

Shego complied with his request, having already figured out what was going on. Drakken watched as she disappeared in a flash of green energy. Sparks caught the cell phone in the air and quickly pressed the hang-up button; it was programmed to self-destruct if left on for a more a few seconds.

"You found my teleportation device," Drakken crowed with delight, "and adapted it for use with a cell phone!"

"I think you mean that I found and modified _Dr. Dementor's_ teleportation device," Sparks replied.

"NYAH!" Drakken said, scandalized. "I had Kim Possible steal it fair and square!"

"Right... here, same as Ms. Shego. Press one, then dial."

Drakken too vanished in a flash of green energy, and again Phillip caught the cell phone. Then he too dialed out, and teleported away from the prison. This time the phone hit the ground, and shortly thereafter was burned away by the activated thermite charge.

* * *

_We stood on the hill next to his house. It had all come so sudden, so soon, there was no warning, and now we were being ripped apart by something beyond the control of two teenagers. We were best friends, as close as two people could get and not be lovers._

_His parents had finished loading the van, and we knew then that this was really it. After a lifetime of running together, he would be gone, and I would be here. Not alone, of course, I had other friends... but it all seemed to be so empty without him._

_I don't remember what we said, but I do remember clinging to him like a vise, and he to me with strength that I hadn't known that he possessed. Soon he would leave for Norway, of all places, and I did not want to let him go. Were the world mine to barter, I would have gladly traded it to keep him there, to keep the fun times rolling._

_Then came the accursed horn, and his father's voice, and it was time. We pulled apart slowly, letting our fingers claim one last lingering touch as if to sear in our senses one last memory indelible. As if by doing so we could keep the moment of separation from occurring._

_Then we no longer touched. I cannot remember what he said, for it never happened. I can only remember waving to him, and him waving to me, as they pulled away and headed for the airport._

_It never happened. Yet I can feel as if a portion of me had been ripped away._

_To Norway. I dream, but it never happened. So why?_

* * *

_'No, Stoppable,'_ she thought as she came to. _'Fine, so you had the Norway dream again, it doesn't mean- did I just call myself _Stoppable_? Not a bad thought, of course, but I'm still a Possible yet. But someday, I hope someday...'_

She laughed slightly as she stirred and lifted and her head from her mother's lap.

"You haven't done that since you were a little girl," Mrs. Dr. Possible said with a smile.

"It seemed like a good time for it," Kim replied blearily. "How long was I out?"

"Nearly three hours. I was about to wake you anyway, since Greg should be done with the analysis by now."

"What do you have him looking for, anyway?"

"What I hope will be an answer for you," she replied, rising from her chair and heading towards the lab.

"Since when are you so cryptic?" Kim called out as she followed after her mother. They entered the lab just in time to see Dr. Greg peering into a microscope.

"Greg, how's it look?" Mrs. Dr. Possible asked.

"Just a sec, this is the last test... bingo."

He looked up at them and grinned.

"Love Potion Number Nine."

* * *

"This is one of my old lairs!" Drakken said in surprise. Indeed, it was one of the lairs that he had used as a storage facility for a part of his Legacy. Specifically, the part that was a high-powered death ray. It sat, partially completed, atop a raised dais at one end of the room. The room itself had a high, vaulted ceiling with prominent rafters, and was located at the top of a tower.

"That's right, Dr. Drakken," Sparks replied. "In fact, we're just a little ways outside of Middleton."

"Ah, yes, the mountain citadel," Drakken said nostalgically. "It did have a certain 'Gothic' feel to it. How did you find it?"

Sparks pointed to the boxes of parts for the death ray, boxes that bore the logo of the Panther Group.

"Let's just say I have good connections."

"Right, this is all very fascinating," Shego interrupted, "but what's the plan?"

"Simple, Ms. Shego. We are going to get rid of Ms. Possible. I'm assuming you want some payback for the past six months?"

Shego grinned evilly.

"What do ya have in mind?"

"I can deliver Ms. Possible to you," he began, "but I need Dr. Drakken here to finish assembling the death ray and to set things in motion. Full instructions are on the computer over there."

He pointed towards a laptop sitting next to the partially assembled death ray.

"Ms. Shego, I have some thirty old-model synthodrones waiting in the adjoining rooms. I believe you can use them to deal with any unwanted guests?"

"Depends on who you're expecting. If you mean Global Justice, then it might be a problem. Stoppable... not so much."

Dr. Drakken flinched at that. He still had a slight phobia of the 'serious face'.

"Anything is possible, Ms. Shego," Sparks replied. "Though in his case, I doubt it: I am quite sure that I have managed to drive a wedge between Ms. Possible and Mr. Stoppable; I seriously doubt that he will be coming to her aid. As for Global Justice-"

"Wait, wait, back up a sec. _You_ split up Possible and Stoppable? How?"

* * *

"What do you mean, 'pheromones'?" Kim asked.

"Well, the existence of human pheromones has long been disputed," Dr. Greg explained, "but about a year ago a group of researchers at Johns Hopkins managed to identify an actual human sex pheromone, along with an easily identifiable chemical byproduct."

He gestured towards the microscope.

"You've got that byproduct in your blood, Kim."

"Explain," Kim ordered. "In detail."

"The basic idea is this: a pheromone is an airborne hormone that is normally used for carrying messages between animals of the same species. In the animal world they're used as territorial markers that say such things as 'dang kids, get off of my property' or 'come here to find food', alarm markers to say 'danger Will Robinson, danger!', as well as for a male whatever to say to a female whatever 'hey, baby, come over here and let's make a few more whatevers'."

"Greg..." Mrs. Dr. Possible said with a warning tone.

"Anyway, what you got hit with was a human variant of that last one. As near as we understand it, the pheromone interacts with the portions of human physiology involved in sexual attraction. Well, _interact_ isn't really accurate; it's more like it knocks those systems into overdrive, producing a near-instantaneous attraction for the person who is emitting the pheromone, to the utter disregard of anything else. Think a schoolyard crush with the force of Mjolnir."

"The sort where you'd do anything just get noticed by the person," Kim whispered darkly.

"Exactly. Any of this sound familiar?"

"Almost... not exactly, though. The effect wasn't... that instantaneous, and the first time... I don't know. It was like my body was acting on it's own, without my mind being involved at all. The second time... well, it was worse the second time..."

Greg thought about that for a moment.

"Like I said, the pheromones produce a strong sexual attraction in recipient," he said after a time, "but _only_ on the biochemical level. Call me an old romantic, but I believe that there are things far stronger than simple chemistry, things that could have protected your mind before he adapted the chemistry to your specific makeup. Real love, for one thing."

"Quoth the single guy," Mrs. Dr. Possible whispered with a grin.

"You hush," Dr. Greg replied. "I'll have you know I actually had a date two nights ago. She told me she had a wonderful time.

"Kim, if what you said is correct, then this guy is far more dangerous than you think. What happened would indicate that a large enough dose of these pheromones doesn't just override the superego, but can actually affect voluntary muscle control by bypassing the ego itself, leaving only the id in charge... please tell me you've heard of Freud?"

"The id is the instinctive urges, the superego is one's morality, and the ego is the conscious mind that balances the two," Kim replied.

"Close enough. The pheromones put your id in control the first time, and I'm guessing they came close to suborning your ego the second time around?"

"Not close: they did."

* * *

He had to duck, very quickly, to avoid Shego's plasma burst. She had pressed the issue of how, exactly, he had driven a wedge between Kim and Ron, so Sparks had demonstrated to her his special talent. A few seconds later she was in his arms and they were sharing a passionate kiss.

This had led to a harsh glare from Drakken, who spent the whole time clearing his throat. Loudly.

A few seconds after that he'd sent the deactivating pheromone, Shego had 'woken up', so to speak, and had proceeded to shoot the plasma bolt at him. After another few seconds she grinned.

"Nice trick. Pheromones?"

"Thank you, and yes."

"Some kind of mechanical system?"

"No, Ms. Shego, this is completely biological. Lab accident from college. I can release them from my sweat glands at will."

"And you did that to Possible..."

"Twice, actually, and I made sure Mr. Stoppable knew about it each time. Had a journalist friend of mine, one Aceta Lynn, take a picture of us in Overton, and make sure it found it's way to Mr. Stoppable and the New York Times.

"The second time was right in front of him. Love doesn't exist, it's nothing but chemistry... but jealousy and anger do exist, and violating what people mistakingly call 'love' can produce some very, very powerful examples of those two emotions. Such things divide, and work in our favor."

"You _are _evil," Shego said with appreciation, and a bit flirtatiously.

"Don't start, Ms. Shego," he said in warning. "I didn't bring you here for that; I only brought the two of you here because I needed your help, nothing more."

"Alright, you know, fine," Shego said, sounding a bit miffed. "Though I gotta ask... between me and Possible... which of us was the better kisser?"

He smiled thinly.

_'As if I enjoyed it in either case..'_

"Ms. Shego, I am not stupid enough to try and answer that question. Dr. Drakken, how comes it?"

"Almost finished," he said testily. "The death ray will be ready by the time you bait the trap."

"Well done, Dr. Drakken," Sparks replied. "I'll call you when everything in Middleton is ready."

He reached into one of the boxes and pulled out another cell phone, and a largish cylinder.

"Dr. Drakken, Ms. Shego... the next time I'm here, I'll have Ms. Possible with me."

He dialed a number on the phone and vanished in a burst of green light.

"Do you always have to flirt like that," Drakken growled when he'd gone.

"You're just jealous."

"SHEGO!"

* * *

"Dr. Greg... if he tries to hit me with these things again, is there anyway I can fight it?"

"I dunno," he replied with shrug. "Like I said, I don't believe that simple chemistry is the highest force in our lives, but I can't give you any empirical evidence for that, so... I just don't know. However... now you know what you're up against. 'One who knows the enemy and knows himself will not be endangered in a hundred engagements.'"

"First time I've heard a doctor quote Sun Tzu," Kim said with a raised eyebrow. She approved of his quotation, and understood what he meant. Some things just lose their implacable menace when revealed in light.

"That particular dictum is actually quite popular in medicine," Mrs. Dr. Possible replied. "'Know thy enemy' is applicable even if the enemy is cancer or a brain disorder."

Kim nodded.

"So, what are you going to do?" her mother continued.

"What else? I'm going to find Ron, tell him all of this, and then figure out what to do. Dr. Greg, can you be on hand to explain this stuff again?"

"I'll keep the samples on hand. I'm guessing this won't wait till tomorrow?"

"That would be a good guess," Kim replied. "Thanks for your help, Dr. Greg."

"Hey, it's the least I could do after... well, huh. Actually, I don't think I owe you for anything, so this one's on me."

"Right..."

"Thanks, Greg," Mrs. Dr. Possible said as they were leaving the lab.

"Any time, Dr. Possible."

"So, where to?" Mrs. Dr. Possible asked when they were out in the hall. She figured Kim would ask to go directly to the Stoppable home.

"Back to the house," Kim said quickly, already thinking through the situation. "Ron can get... incredibly stubborn when he's got some whack notion stuck in his head, and I may need my mission gear for this."

"The mission gear?"

"Well, mostly just the grappling hook. I swear, even if I have to break in his bedroom window, I'm not gonna let today end before we get this straightened out!"

* * *

The ride back was spent in silence, with both Kim and her mother ruminating over what they had learned. Well, to be specific, Kim did most of the ruminating while Mrs. Dr. Possible mostly paid attention to the road. No need to take any chances.

Kim, for her part, was fully awake. Whatever weariness that she'd felt had faded away after her nap and the subsequent revelations. Now she was just mad.

At herself? Maybe a little, as she wondered if she could have tried to fight the pheromones just a little bit more, and she wished that she had made more time to actually see Ron over the past few months... but she didn't spend too much time kicking herself for such things. There was no point to it.

At Ron? While she had been mad at him before, she had found that it was very hard to stay angry at the guy. Especially so in this case, since she knew that the attack had been direct at him as much as it had been at her. Getting mad at Ron and refusing to talk to him, or just generally acting nasty like that, would just play into the enemy's hands, and she was not going to start doing that.

Villains had to work for it some, after all.

No, her anger was directed right were it needed to be: at the mysterious guy with no name. He'd come after them both, trying specifically to drive a wedge between them. Well, she wasn't going to let him win.

She only wished she knew _why_, and couldn't help but feel that the why was incredibly important.

She was still wondering about the why when they pulled into the driveway, and then her thoughts turned to the mission at hand.

Go inside, get suited up, grab the gear, then head to Ron's house. Get to him by any means necessary. Then tell him the truth, and be reconciled.

They were just barely in the door when the kimmunicator (which Kim still kept on her at all times) beeped.

"Wade, can this wait?" she snapped as she answered the call. Mrs. Dr. Possible continued to her husband, to tell him what they had found out at the hospital.

"Sorry Kim, but I just got word from the prison. Three of the guards were murdered a few hours ago, and Dr. Drakken and Shego are missing."

"And they just noticed this now!"

"The perp did something to the security cameras, so they didn't catch it until a shift change," Wade explained. "The funny thing is, the MO matches that of your kissing bandit."

"What?"

"Suddenly appearing and disappearing out of nowhere, only evidence is the melted remains of a cell phone. There is no visible entrance or exit point."

"Oh, wonderful As if he hasn't caused me enough problems. Anyway, what do they want me to do about this?"

"Nothing right now. They just figured you should know."

"Please, thank them for me," Kim said dryly. "Listen, you still have Ron chipped, right?"

"Yes..."

"Can you tell me where he is?"

"Why?"

"Let's just say the kissing bandit has had a busy night."

"Gotcha," Wade said, working the keys on his computer with all the grace and aplomb of a classical pianist. "Looks like he's in his bedroom, or somewhere near-"

Wade raised an eyebrow.

"You just got a hit on the site. Live video, want me to patch it through?"

"Sure, go ahead."

Her mom walked up to her and peaked over her right shoulder. Her dad came over to peak over her left shoulder. Nana Possible just listened in from an armchair.

"Greetings, Kim Possible. Long time no see."

"Dr. Drakken," Kim growled. "You're the last thing I need to deal with now."

"I don't doubt that at all. You are a busy person, quite the social life, from what I hear. But I didn't call to chit-chat; rather, I called to announce your doom!"

"My daughter's doom, Drew?" Mr. Dr. Possible said with amusement. "Your track record on that is about as good as your track record in building robots."

"It only takes one time, _James Timothy_," Drakken snapped. "And this time I've got all my bases covered, yo. I have placed an explosive device in the basement of the Middleton Public Library. Think something in the thirty megaton range."

"You wouldn't dare."

"To get rid of you, Kim Possible, there is nothing I wouldn't dare," Drakken said with conviction. "However, I am a sporting man, so I'll give you a chance. You have a half-hour to find the device and deactivate it. If you attempt to alert the authorities, state, federal, or local, then I will immediately activate the device. Best of luck, Possible. Use it well."

The transmission ended.

"Kimmie-cub, it's a trap," Mr. Dr. Possible said, unnecessarily.

"You're right, but I can't take that chance. Wade, start scanning the library. I want you to tell me exactly where the bomb is when I get there."

"You got it, Kim," Wade said, and set to work. Kim turned to head up to her room.

"Kimmie, what about Ron?" Mrs. Dr. Possible asked. That brought Kim up short. She paused for a moment, then turned back to her parents.

"If I don't take care of this, then there might not be a Ron left to make up with," she replied. "I'll have to deal with him once this is done."

"You need a ride?"

"No, I'll use the rocket pack. It'll be faster."

Then she turned away and headed to her room, to prepare for battle. Mrs. Dr. Possible looked at her husband for a moment, and then turned to head back out the door.

"Going after Ron?" he asked nonchalantly.

"_Somebody's_ got to get that sorted out," she replied. "Kimmie'll stop the bomb... but I don't want him to stay mad at her any longer than he has to. Besides, it'll work better if Kim comes back to find him sitting here in the living room, happy and hopefully apologetic, without her having to give him a talking to."

"I'll hold down the fort, then," he said. "Drive careful, honey."

"Will do," she replied, and then walked out the door.

* * *

The paladin flew through the air, borne aloft upon stubby wings and propelled by harnessed fire. Her armor glowed in white and blue, and unlike the armor of old was purposed for both protection and augmentation. The battle suit of Kim Possible was partially cybernetic, for portions of it interfaced directly with her brain, and could be controlled by thought; other portions worked along side her muscles and nerves, granting her access to even greater feats of speed and strength. Her armor could repair itself, the hands could assume any shape at will, and it could even throw up a short-lived force field or a cloaking field around her.

Even better, it was sleek and form-fitting, and she looked dang sexy in it. At least, that's what Ron always told her. Just the memory of that made her blush, but in a good way. She _liked _blushing around Ron.

_'Just another few minutes, Ron, and then you and I are going to have a little talk._

_'What is that they do in movies, for the cheap tear? Oh yeah, have the romantic couple spend their last few moments in each other's arms, and then one or both of them die. Forget that, I'm gonna stop this device and then we can spend all our lives in each other's arms!'_

She saw the library below her and angled down towards it, glad that her initial estimation of the speed of the rocket pack versus a car had been correct. She landed in the parking lot, switched off and removed the rocket pack, and drew the kimmunicator.

"Talk to me Wade. I'm at the library, near one of the side doors."

"Okay, it's after hours, so you'll have to the pick the lock. There should be a set of picks in your utility belt."

Kim picked the lock on the door and entered the library. Of course, she found herself in a small side office, so she had to pick that lock as well to gain access to the library proper, then she had pick yet a third lock to gain access to the basement. No alarms were set off; Wade had hacked the computers to shut them down, as they didn't want to take the risk of a burglar alarm causing Drakken to set the bomb off, but he discovered that the alarms had already been deactivated.

Unmolested, then, Kim descended into the darkness of the basement. It was climate controlled, for this was where the library kept their old archives: ancient editions of the Middleton Times, memoirs from citizens of note, and just a few odds and ends that would be of interest to local historians. Of course, the organization of the non-paper items wasn't the best in the world, which made it a good place to hide certain items.

Namely, a large bomb. Wade directed her through the maze of junk and filing cabinets towards where he had detected radiologicals; however, he warned her that he wasn't detecting enough radioactive material to constitute a 30-megaton device. She took that into consideration, but never deviated from her task; trap or no trap, she couldn't take the risk.

Finally she reached the device. It was a cylinder, about two feet in diameter and five feet long, stuck amongst a bunch of old trunks.

"It's kinda... small?"

"I keep telling you, something's fishy about this. But if you won't be denied... there should be an access panel somewhere on the outside. Find it and open it."

The panel was, conveniently, located on an area of the circumference facing towards her. She opened it and noted that the timer read fifteen minutes. Wade fed her instructions on how to disable the device (she did not ask, in fact she did not want to know, how he got them), which she followed to the letter.

The timer stopped, switched off, and the slight humming noise that was coming from the interior of the bomb faded away. Kim breathed a sigh of relief.

Then the timer started up again, this time reading one minute and moving at a much faster pace.

"Wade..." Kim said, starting to panic.

"I'm working on it!" he replied, sounding somewhat panicked himself. "I... I'm sorry Kim, I've got nothing."

"Get Ron on the line _now_," Kim ordered. "I'm not gonna die without-"

The timer hit zero (it was moving _really_ fast), and then a buzzer sounded. An air horn blew, and confetti shot out of the 'bomb', and flew directly at Kim. She was so startled by the confetti and noise that she jumped backwards and lost her grip on the kimmunicator.

The startled moment didn't last long, for the fact that she hadn't died in sudden nuclear fire meant that the trap theory was quite correct. She went into immediate battle mode, senses hyper aware, and started scanning the room for the inevitable threat.

It was too late. He was already behind her, grabbing her around the torso and arms, and pressing a wet cloth to her nose and mouth. She caught a whiff of a liquefied anesthetic, and then her world began to fade to black.

Still, even as she lost consciousness, she realized that he'd crushed the kimmunicator with his foot, and that one of his hands clutched a cell phone.

He spoke to her, then, and she knew his voice; it was the man from Club Banana and Bueno Nacho, the nameless man, the kissing bandit.

"Don't worry, Ms. Possible," he said, his voice viciously pleasant and polite, "I shan't be kissing you again."

END CHAPTER 3


	4. Repentance

Author's Notes:

This was supposed to be the final chapter. However, it ran a bit over long, so I retitled it a bit and split it in two. So there will, in fact, be a fifth chapter, and then maybe something else. Depends on what I want to give away about the overall story line.

Thanks to Willk1989 (glad you've liked it, and keep an eye for 65 and 42), JMAN2.0 (there is more to the Panther Group than meets the eye, even more than I knew when I started The Fallen), jasminevr (oh, I'm gonna get worse... not in this story, maybe, but I'm gonna get worse), Campy (here be all the background you could ever want, and don't worry 'bout Mrs. Dr. P., she knows what she's doing), MrDrP (I fully concede the visitation point, but read the last one again: Wade did scan), Taechunsa (been discussion this over at RS, but just wait a bit, Ron'll get his shot in), and aimtbj (it may soon get thicker), for the reviews. The praise is good (I like the praise), but so is the criticism Both help to not only improve the story being written, but also help to improve future stories.

That being said... I figured that there were other things in this particular tome that arouse controversy _besides_ Ron and Kim's college travels. Shows what I know, I guess :).

Anyway, onto the story.

* * *

_"Love... bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things..." 1 Corinthians 13:4, 7_

**Chapter 4: Repentance**

She was angry, but only mildly so; the fact that her daughter hadn't been angry, just weary and upset, had ameliorated her anger somewhat. But only just. She still could not believe that he had reacted in that way, that he had actually believed that Kim would...

But enough. She loosened her grip on the steering wheel and let her mind focus on driving, and not on the events of the past night. Certainly she didn't allow herself to think too much about the fact that her daughter was attempting to defuse a multi-megaton nuclear device. No, she focused on the route to the Stoppables.

She felt somewhat silly for driving a route that her daughter and practically-third-son had _walked_ so many times in the past (though she had long suspected that half the point was the time spent in the journey, and that the destination didn't really matter, so long as they were together), but time was of the essence. She needed to get to Ron quickly, get him to understand what had really happened at Bueno Nacho, and give him a chance to explain himself. That was something that she really, _really_, wanted to hear.

Mrs. Dr. Possible was angry, but only mildly so.

* * *

He was angry; at what, he did not know. He had stormed away from Bueno Nacho in a huff, and had in fact stormed up to his room in a similar manner, the trip from the fast food place to his parent's house having not abated his huff a whit. So he sat on the edge of his bed, with naught but a naked mole rat for company, and silently fumed as he stared at the walls.

He sat there for hours, or days, maybe just mere seconds, his thoughts a bitter circle. He would alternately wonder _how_ it was that she could have turned from him for some random guy... and would then immediately wonder _how_ it was that he could actually believe that.

At that point memories would flood his mind: Kim walking off with Mankey and thoughtlessly locking him in the closet behind her; Kim walking off with Mankey with naught but a smile in his direction after he'd risked his life to keep her from vanishing; Kim dismissing him so casually, after he'd said he wasn't feeling well and should probably head home, with nothing more than a "Okay, see ya!" and giggle-fest with Erik; Kim _turning and leaving the tree house_, even as he was about to confess everything to her, when he just needed her there to talk to him for one minute, just because Erik had showed up. It was just like her, to cast him aside without thought when something 'better' came along.

But hadn't she told Bonnie off about that very thing, that she couldn't find anyone better than him? Even as he fumed, even as the doubting part of his mind tried to justify his reaction, there was always that small, steady voice, that reminded him of two very basic facts: throughout all of that, he had loved her always, and he always would, and now she'd fallen in love with him as well. He'd been smitten with her since he was four. That had grown to a deep friendship, and then to love, love that had hoped in spite of, and endured, far more than this.

Hadn't he won, in the end? How many times had she told him she loved him, and how many times had he seen her eyes sparkle at him like the stars at night? Deep down the still conviction told him that he'd seen had been _false_, he was wrong in his actions, and there was another explanation.

He simply could not think of one; the look he'd seen in Kim's eyes as she'd kissed that man had simply left him too conflicted to think clearly. So the war in his mind between the despairing doubt and the quiet, implacable hope continued, its resolution prevented by its perpetuity. Finally, for he could think of nothing else to do, he grabbed his walkman, headphones, and one of his grandfather's last tapes, and sat to listen. Maybe he would find something else there to think about.

Ron Stoppable was angry; at what, he did not know.

* * *

She was unconscious, but wouldn't be for long. She did not notice when Sparks held a cell-phone up to her ear and teleported her out of the library basement, nor did she realize that Shego had carried her to one of the walls and placed here there, so that she was held aloft in binders. However, though she was unaware of her surroundings, there was a portion of her mind that still functioned, and remembered what had happened. In that portion of her mind she considered her current predicament, in a manner like unto dreams.

She figured that she was going to die. At least, that had been her last conscious impression before the anesthetic had taken her; given all that had happened, it can be considered a fair assumption. A multi-megaton thermonuclear device was not to be used as bait unless something far, far more unpleasant was in the wings, and since both Drakken and the kissing bandit were involved, it was bound to be quite unpleasant indeed. She berated herself for having fallen into the trap in the first place, but got past that very quickly. A nuke was quite simply a bluff that she could not call, but had to face.

The one regret that she would have, that portion of her brain realized, was that she would die with Ron angry at her. _That _was an unpleasant thought. They'd had fights before, but they'd always made up in the end, and to know that this one was caused by someone else, intentionally... well, that had burned her up. Tracking down the kissing bandit and... having a discussion with him had always been the part would come after making up with Ron, at least in her mind. It just seemed like the thing to do.

She was slowly beginning to come to, and resolved that she would do whatever it took to survive, just so she could make Ron smile again.

Then they would pound the ever-loving snot out of the kissing bandit and anyone else involved. She partially smiled from the dream-thought.

Kim Possible was unconscious, but wouldn't be for long.

* * *

He was ecstatic, more so than he had been in months, perhaps in years. Vengeance was at last within his grasp, and even better, his vengeance brought with it the chance of ultimate victory. The only thing that gave him pause was that the plan wasn't his own, and thus likely had many strings attached. No matter, though; Sparks was committed through to the end, and if he caused a problem later on, well, Shego would deal with him. Any risk was worth to rid himself of Kim Possible, his own personal thorn.

Besides, even attached strings could become useful, given the the right circumstances.

His life of villainy had started well, but had quickly taken a dive when he and Possible had first crossed paths. Oh, sure, he hadn't actually _succeeded _with any take-over-the-world schemes before that, but then he'd been foiled by Global Justice, or the FBI, or some other organization, those whose names said that while the villain may have been taken down, he'd at least been taken down by _professionals_. Then along came Kim Possible, and he was taken down by a fifteen year old cheerleader and her buffoonish sidekick... and a naked mole rat!

He would rather have been taken down by the DGSE.

The frustration had built in him as, over the years, Kim Possible dealt him defeat after defeat after defeat. It was nerve-wracking, and a constant, unremitting blow to his pride, which had finally left him stuck in jail for half a year, cut off from all of his brilliant plots and schemes. He had even been afraid of the _sidekick_, for crying out loud, and only because of one moment of the serious face.

But now... now he would have his revenge, and maybe even get the world to hand itself over to him as a part of the bargain. If not... then it didn't matter. With Kim Possible gone, and his Legacy ready and waiting, he would be able to conquer the world at will. Let Global justice, or the NSA, or even the _Marines_ come after him; the Legacy would be enough.

Dr. Drakken was ecstatic, more so than he had been in months, perhaps in years.

* * *

Mrs. Dr. Possible pulled into the driveway of the Stoppable residence at half past ten. She didn't know it, but Kim had already been captured by Sparks and teleported to Drakken's headquarters. Had she known it, of course, she would have done exactly the same thing as she did in ignorance, except a few words might have changed and she would have been considerably less composed. Even so, she had a bad feeling about the whole deal.

Still, she shut the car down, got out, walked up to the front door and knocked. She heard a voice say to wait a minute, and then a few moments later Mrs. Stoppable opened the door.

"Lilly!" she said in surprise. "What brings you here at this time of night?"

"Errand of mercy, Andrea," Lilly Possible replied as she entered the house. "Is Ron here? He and I need to have a little talk."

* * *

"Wake up, Ms. Possible. It's nearly camera time."

She came to with a groan, realizing that there were any of a hundred voices that would have rather heard upon waking. Well, actually there was only one, though there were at least two others that would have done in a pinch. Still, she would much rather have awakened somewhere else, anywhere else, without her arms stretched and bound above her, and her feet held fast below her.

Idly, she thought of the building made of cheese in Wisconsin, and the first big fight she and Ron had ever had.

Her eyes focused, and she recognized her current location as being a Drakken-style layer. This was confirmed when she saw Shego leaning against a wall, and saw Drakken futzing with what looked like another one of his death rays. She also realized that said death ray was aimed right at her.

Again, not a good way to wake up.

Then her wandering eyes caught sight of _him_, and her evening was made even worse. Still, it did bring to mind her ruminations from when she was unconscious, and the concept of smacking this guy around went a ways towards raising her spirits. Not too far, mind, but it was a start.

"Ah, good, you're awake. Welcome back to the land of the living, Ms. Possible," he said with the same old thin smile, with the same old polite tone.

"Let me guess, you plan to pheromone-warp me again?" she asked unkindly.

"Now, Ms. Possible," he said reasonably, "didn't I say that I wasn't going to kiss you again? Besides, this is your big night on camera, and we need you awake, and yourself."

She just stared at him for a moment.

"You have questions?"

"Yeah, a couple. For starters... who are you, and why are you doing this?"

"My name is Phillip Sparks," he replied after a moment, figuring there was no harm in telling her a few things, and that it would allay suspicion if he kept to the villain mold. "Once upon a time I was a graduate student at Johns Hopkins, studying biochemistry."

"Let me guess," Kim interrupted dryly. "Lab accident?"

"Very good, Ms. Possible," Sparks replied as leaned against the wall. "We were studying samples of mammalian pheromones, with the intent to see if there were any analogous compounds in human biochemistry. I'll not bore you with the details, as it ultimately involved three rubber bands, a Bunsen burner, and a single flask placed atop said burner for far too long. At the end of the day the lab was destroyed, I was barely alive, and my face had been shredded by flying glass.

"Oh, don't look so surprised. This... visage... was not my original face. I've only had it for a few years now. In my younger days I was far, far plainer; some... acquaintances of mine funded my reconstruction into this face, while a side effect of the explosion was... well, you already know the effects of that."

He paused and stepped away from the wall, just so he could look her in the eyes. Had she any room she would have jerked back from the malice that lay there, barely hidden behind a veneer of polite civility. However, the malice wasn't unaccompanied, for there was another look along with it, one that proclaimed that he was worried he might have said too much. She filed that away as he started speaking again.

"But that's just who I am, and why I can do what I do. But that's not my _why_, which is what you want to know, isn't it? Simply put... just the sight of you, and the act of kissing you... not only did I not enjoy it, but it completely disgusted me."

"Are you-" Kim tried to ask, looking askance.

"No. What sexual attractions I have are indeed directed towards women, hence a portion of my frustration. I simply hate you, Ms. Possible. Rather, I hate what you are, what you represent. You are a woman. Not just any kind of woman, but an attractive woman, the sort to turn any man's head. Not that such a thing _matters_, really, but it just adds to the problem I have with your continued existence.

"Let me tell you a story, Ms. Possible.

"Once upon a time there was a young man. He was hardly ugly, yet he was not what you would call handsome. He was, completely and utterly, plain, or average, if you will. Nothing remarkable at all.

"This average man had a friend. A young lady; they'd been friends since childhood, and to his mind she was more beautiful than... well, more beautiful than any words that you would know."

"I know a few," Kim said. "Ron's developed quite the vocab."

"Trust me, Ms. Possible, there are words in this world that few people, least of all the two of you, know," he said quietly. "In any case... they were friends, had been for a long time, and by high school this plain, average young man found himself "falling in love" with the beautiful girl. Yet it was not to be, for women like that never, ever, have eyes for the plain young men. No, she went for the football players, or the handsome artsy types. Most of those, of course, never even bothered to notice the existence of the plain young man.

"You see, this plain young man was slightly awkward. He wore glasses. He stumbled over words and over himself. He was intelligent. There are two things that it was socially disadvantageous for a high school student to be in the 90's, and those were intelligent or stupid. He was the former. He was an outcast, the object of jokes because he didn't do any of the "cool" things. When around him, the beautiful girl would defend him against the teasing. After all she, needed him to help with her homework and to help keep her grades up. When around her other friends, and he did not find out about this until after graduation, she was just as disdainful of him as the rest of school, which humored her... association with him because they all found it very, very funny that she was able to convince the brilliant loser that she actually cared about him.

"I'm sure you can understand the humor behind that, Ms. Possible.

"The young man, as I said, didn't know any of this. He believed that she was still his friend... his best friend... practically his only friend. He honestly convinced himself, even as he watched her chase football players and popular guys, that if he just kept at being a good friend then she would come love him as he did her. In fact, there were times when she did seem to draw closer to him, but those were when she'd had a falling out or two with her popular friends, and being close with an outcast made her feel morally superior to them. She was being _charitable_, you see, not like those _other girls_.

"And every now and then, almost as if she wanted to keep his hopes up, she would tell him she loved him. Maybe just as a friend, but he treasured each day that he heard those words come from her mouth.

"You can likely guess what happened, Ms. Possible. They graduated from high school.. and he never saw her again. Well, that's not correct. There was one time, that summer before they parted ways, that he came to her house, figuring that now was his only chance to tell her how he felt.

"She laughed in his face."

His face had steadily grown angrier as he talked, and then it took on a bitterness that Kim had never seen before. In anyone. She understood why.

She knew the average young man had been him.

"In the ensuing... hilarity," Sparks continued, "that young man learned much that he had missed for the past few years. Learned that being kind, considerate, helpful, _there_, doesn't matter a _damn_ if one doesn't have the looks to go with it. He'd always been there for her, giving of his time, and himself, helping her academically, his own social life suffering for it, and occasionally helping her to keep her sanity when one or more relationships went down the toilet. When she didn't need him anymore, she tossed him out of her life, and he never saw her again."

"I'm sorry," Kim whispered. "She shouldn't have treated you like that."

He stared at her for a time, and then his face became twisted, for it took on such a look of hatred and malice that any handsome quality it once had was totally obscured.

He struck her, then, upon the cheeks, once with the palm of his right hand, and then again on the back swing.

"Shut up!" he growled through clenched teeth. "How dare you try and be understanding, how dare you _assume_ that you can even know what that felt like, when you do even worse."

"What are you-"

He struck her again. Her lower lip began to bleed.

"I said shut up! At least when she pretended, it was just to string me along as a _friend_ until she didn't need me anymore. In your case, you actually made him think that you _love_ him. That is far, far crueler.

"You see, Ms. Possible, I learned something that day. I learned that _love does not exist_.

"It's a fraud, perpetuated by poets and artists and generally lonely people to convince themselves that there is something out there in world the worth striving for. All that exists is sexual attraction, the animal urge to mate and produce offspring that will then go on to produce their own offspring and thus, in some small way, perpetuate our presence in the gene pool. That attraction is nothing but a chemical reaction in the brain, one keyed to various evolutionary holdovers and societal norms. For some reason human society sees the need to romanticize this.

"And guys like me, and guys like Mr. Stoppable, do not trigger those chemical reactions in girls like you. You may like being around him; maybe you're like the girl in my story, and think that because you "love" an outcast, that makes you something special. Maybe you find him useful, somehow, and figure you can live with keeping him around, for a time.

"But mark my words, Ms. Possible, as soon as someone like me, but genuine, came along, you would have dumped him like the dead weight you secretly consider him to be. That's what you always do, isn't it? You've done it before, with the artist and the synthodrone.

"You're shallow like that; all women are shallow like that, and I hate all of you for it. I'm going to destroy you, Ms. Possible, just because you represent everything I despise. Shallowness, pretensions of virtue... I am going to enjoy watching you die."

"So you're doing this because the girl you had a crush on in _high school _wouldn't return the affection, and you think you're getting revenge by killing _me_? You don't know a thing about me," she said slowly, "nor about Ron. And when he gets here..."

Sparks laughed, a loud, mean laugh.

"When _he_ gets here!" Sparks said through his laughter. "Ms. Possible, believe me, Mr. Stoppable's not coming."

Suddenly his mirth ended, and the hate returned to his eyes, and he grasped Kim's jaw in his right hand, and was not gentle.

"I didn't tell you, did I, what the beautiful girl did right before she sent me on my way?" he said quietly, but the tone of his quiet chilled her to the bone. "There was a man in her house, a handsome man, actually a perfect stranger, someone I'd never seen before. Then, before my eyes, she let him pull her close and kiss her, just as I'd wanted to do on so many occasions. Just as I did to you in Club Banana, and Bueno Nacho. What Mr. Stoppable saw in your eyes that night was what I saw in hers Of course, that was the intent all along."

Whatever compassion she might have felt for Sparks left her. Being hurt was one thing, but to intentionally force someone to feel such a pain, knowing full well yourself what it is like... such a thing is just evil.

"As for the girl, well, I've hated her ever since, even though she's not alive anymore. Now... you saw Mr. Stoppable's face as well as I did. All men are the same, Ms. Possible; we all react in the same way to betrayal of "love", which tells you how important the mating instinct is in male psychology. Believe me, I know: I've done this many times already, and each time the reaction has been the same.

"He's not coming for you, Ms. Possible. He never even wants to see you again."

Kim simply glared.

"You... don't know him at all."

* * *

"Ron Stoppable!" Mrs. Dr. Possible said in her surgeon's voice, "open this door... STAT!"

It was a voice that she figured Ron knew well; the "command voice" that Kim used in missions was a variation on the theme, and she knew how Ron reacted to that particular tone. She had tried, twice, to get him to open the door by speaking in a normal, gentler tone. Now, she decided to show Ron just exactly where Kim got her commanding presence from.

Sure enough, he finally came to the door and opened it, and let her in. He didn't speak, but she noticed that he looked tired and drawn. In fact... he looked a lot like Kim had, just before she'd taken the nap at the hospital. The room itself looked about as messy as she would have expected.

Ron went and sat on his bed and didn't look at her. On second inspection, she realized that he looked far more miserable than Kim had been, or maybe just more conflicted, she wasn't sure. Her time spent as a doctor had instilled in her a great deal of dearly-bought wisdom and compassion, and so she threw out her prepared speech (which had been somewhat harsh) and stood ready to wing it. Kindness would work better at drawing him out.

There was enough room on the bed, so she pushed aside a walkman and a pair of headphones and sat down next to him. Rufus walked up to her, all the while casting worried looks in Ron's direction. She patted the naked mole rat on the head.

"What were you listening too?" she asked quietly, trying to draw him out.

"My grandfather," he said hesitantly, and finally turned towards her. "Did Kim ever tell you about him?"

He seemed relatively eager to talk. Maybe not about the primary subject, but it was a start.

"No, she didn't. Who was he?"

"His name was Wiktor Sobieski," Ron said. "My, uh, my mom's dad, from Poland. He died when I was six months old, and left me a bunch of recordings, just so I could get to know him when I'd grown up. He... he watched his whole family, everyone he loved, die in the Holocaust."

"Oh, Ron..." she said, her voice trailing off. What do you say to something like that?

"Yeah. But ya know what he said to me, Mrs. Dr. P.? It's what was on the tape, just before you came in.

"He said that his dad was the last one to die, and he said 'I prayed to God to let me die as well, Ronald, and I didn't understand why He kept me alive. Two weeks later we were liberated by the Americans, yet I still did not understand why I was alive. Still, I decided to make the best of it. I came over here to America, to start a new life. Here I met my wife. Here, your mother was born, and in that I had an inkling of why I was here. But Ronald, the reason I remained alive... was so I could see your face. You, Ronald! You are _hope personified_, my boy, hope that no matter what they may try, that evil can never overcome us. You are proof, my dear grandson, that light still shines in the darkness, and the darkness can neither overcome nor understand that light! No matter what you may face, know this: the darkest time of this world could not prevent you from being born. No matter what happens to you, even if it seems like God Himself has turned His face from you, never give up hope. There will always be light to cut through your fears.'"

Ron paused in the recollection, having finished the line and needing to collect his thoughts.

"He seems very well-spoken," Mrs. Dr. Possible commented.

"Yeah, half the time I have to pull out a dictionary just to understand him," Ron said, with something approaching his old sense of humor. "The thing is... what he said... I wish I could believe that. He said earlier that he was afraid, so afraid, that his family line would be erased by the Nazis, as if they had never existed in the first place. In the end he found hope through that fear, and... I wish that I could do that."

"Ron... what are you afraid of?"

He turned away from her and looked at his shoes. It was a long, long moment before he responded.

"I'm afraid that I'll go to sleep and wake up and she won't be _here_ anymore," he whispered quietly, sadly, and so hard to hear. "That she'll find another Mankey, or a real Erik, and she'll run off with the perfect guy and I'll just be... Ron Stoppable, once a boyfriend, and alone... and without _her_. And when I saw her and that guy kiss... I got scared. I don't want to believe it, but I can't explain..."

He paused, and blinked away tears, and then looked at her with pleading eyes. She read his emotions in his face, and Mrs. Dr. Possible felt ashamed that she had ever been angry with him. His eyes begged for her to give him something that he could use, something that would let him cut through the fear and hurt and loss and find his hope again. She would give it to him, but first she reached over and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Ron... I have to ask a question. Do you love my daughter?"

His eyes changed, now softer, yet even more serious. They studied each other's face for a long moment.

"With all I am, Mrs. Dr. P.," he said sincerely. "Otherwise, I doubt it'd hurt this much."

She nodded, and smiled kindly.

"Good answer," she said with a wink. "Now... do you know what pheromones are?"

"Airborne hormones," he answered quickly. "Picked up by smell. Normally used in the animal kingdom to indicate territory or a desire to mate. Their existence and usage amongst humans is highly suspect."

She just stared at him, slightly open mouthed. He grinned at her, weakly, but sincerely.

"I may not know much, Mrs. Dr. P., but I do know _that_."

"I'm kinda disturbed that you do," she replied, but not unkindly. "Do I wanna know?"

"Well, I got some spam mail once..." he said, and then his voice trailed off and his face changed.

Then he experienced a single, necessary, and blessed moment of clarity.

Ron Stoppable was never a mathematical genius, nor was he a very rigorous logician. However, every now and then, sometimes even he could add two and two and get four (of course, he could also at times add "e" and "e" and get four, when everyone knows that equals 5.43656 and change; the boy never could round worth a flip). In that moment of clarity he found the final piece of his puzzle, the last variable in the great equations of _why_. It was that easy, yes, but only because he had wanted it to be. He wanted to find something, anything, that would explain what he'd seen. Mrs. Dr. Possible had given him that one missing bit of information.

His mind, now with something to counter the doubting whisper and reinforce the quiet surety, did the rest.

"Pheromones," he whispered, his eyes moving side to side in the sockets, as if they were scanning some text, or an image. "Then that means that he... and to _her_... on the sacred ground of Bueno Nacho... and I... I..."

Then his eyes went wide with horror, and something passed behind them, something that Mrs. Dr. Possible did not recognize, yet she felt a chill come over her nonetheless.

Then Ron slapped his palms against his forehead and fell upon the bed with a low, anguished growl.

"Argh, what have I done?" he muttered from his prone position. "I've been an idiot, haven't I?"

"Maybe just a little," she replied with a smile.

"You're sure of this?"

"Absolutely. I can even let you talk to the doctor who figured it out, if you want."

"No... no need. You wouldn't lie to me any more than Kim would. You think she'll forgive me?"

"I don't doubt it. So, what do you do now?"

"What else?" Ron said as he got up off the bed. The change in him was amazing; the old spark was back in his eyes, even if they looked very, very sheepish. "Find KP, apologize, probably kiss her a couple dozen times, and then figure out where to go from there."

Mrs. Dr. Possible was delighted. Then Ron looked confused again.

"By the way... where is KP?"

"Didn't Wade tell you?"

"No, I turned off the ronnunicator, even pulled the batteries, didn't really feel like- wait, tell me what?"

Mrs. Dr. Possible opened her mouth to explain, but then there came a panicked cry from the downstairs living room.

"Lilly! Ron!" cried Mrs. Stoppable. "Get down here, now!"

* * *

They had remained in the living room ever since Ron had gotten home. Well, both of them had gone upstairs to try and talk to him a few times, but Ron had told his parents each time that he didn't want to talk about it, thank you very much. Needless to say they were both quite concerned about their son, but didn't know how to draw him out. They were also quite happy when Mrs. Dr. Possible had shown up, and hoped that she would be able to get to the bottom of things, and fix what had gone wrong.

She was a _doctor_, after all. That's what they _do_.

So they sat in the living room, watched the ten o'clock news, and waited, and worried. After a time, though, the screen fell to static. This wasn't surprising; the cable box was occasionally balky, and still had a few quirks to it. What _was_ surprising was that the signal resolved itself into something that most definitely _wasn't_ the ten o'clock news.

Of course, a close-up of Drakken's face would surprise most people. Except for Shego, maybe, but that was only because he tended to have no concept of personal space when he started with an angry rant.

"Is this thing working?" he said, glaring into what was obviously a camera. "Shego, I can't tell... does this red light mean anything?"

"It means that we're live, Dr. D.," came a long-suffering voice from off-screen.

That was the point where Mrs. Stoppable had called for Ron and Mrs. Dr. Possible

"What? We are! Why didn't you say anything! Egh, never mind," Dr. Drakken said, and stepped back away from the camera. Now they got the full view of him, and of what looked to be some kind of giant ray gun behind and to his right.

At this point Ron (with ronnunicator in hand) and Mrs. Dr. Possible arrived in the living room. Ron, seeing Dr. Drakken, turned the ronnunicator back on and called Wade, and asked him if he watching the broadcast.

Wade said he had no choice, it was on all the channels, and not to ask, he was already trying to trace it.

"Citizens and governments of earth," Dr. Drakken began, "my name is Dr. Drakken. I'm certain you've heard of me. For nearly five years now I have tried, many times, to overthrow your respective governments and subject you all under my heel. Each time I have been stopped, mostly by the teen hero Kim Possible.

"My brilliance disrespected, my plans ruined, all because of this teenager... you do not understand the frustration... the anger... argh, grrngh..."

Drakken quickly devolved into an incoherently growling rant, accompanied by fist shaking and foot stomping.

"Dr. D.!" again called the voice of Shego, again from off-screen.

"WHAT, Shego?" Drakken yelled, stopping his rant.

"You've gone off-topic, and stopped using words."

"Oh, right," he said, still sounding mad and entirely unabashed. "Anyway, as I was saying... from the time I burst onto the take over the world scene, until the time I nearly owned you all with the Diablo bots, Kim Possible has championed your cause against me. Believe me, you all owe her a great debt; and now..."

He stepped to the side with a flourish.

"Behold your champion."

Mrs. Dr. Possible gasped and went weak-kneed; Mrs. Stoppable caught her and supported about the shoulders, and led her to a chair all the while whispering the 23rd Psalm to her. Mr. Stoppable turned pale, and looked to his son.

Ron stood there, his face grim and hard, and the knuckles of his right hand white as he gripped the ronnunicator. He brought the ronnunicator to his mouth and began talking quietly to Wade. Had he mind for such things, Ron would have been glad that he had clipped his fingernails earlier, for his left hand was clenched with such force that the nails would have drawn blood.

Even on the TV screen he saw the blood running from Kim's split lip.

Drakken's revelation was this: Kim Possible, teen hero, hung behind him, suspended upon the wall by her arms and legs, suspended helpless as his prisoner. It was apparent to all that the large ray gun was aimed right at her.

Briefly, idly, Ron thought of the building made of cheese in Wisconsin, and the first big fight he and Kim had ever had. The lawsuit that had followed a year later hadn't been fun either, especially since it was right on the heels of the one from the history museum.

"As you can see," Drakken said with an evil grin, "Kim Possible is my prisoner. The death ray pointed at her will kill her with only a single blast, and believe me, I have no reason to keep her alive.

"However, I am a sporting man, and I'd just as soon rule the world with a maximum number of peons to serve my whims, so I'll offer you a chance to make this bloodless. All the governments of the world have one hour to surrender their sovereignty to me... or your champion gets it. Do keep in mind that dear Miss Possible is responsible for keeping you free of me for all these years, and I know that many of you out there owe her one.

"You have one hour to surrender to me, or she dies. Make it snappy."

He paused for a moment, just to let the situation sink in, and for dramatic pacing.

"You thought she was _all that_," he said with a cruel grin, "but she's _not_."

Then the broadcast ended, and there was silence for a time in the Stoppable house, silence only broken by stifled sobs from Mrs. Dr. Possible. She knew, as well as anyone, that there was no way in the world that the United States, even if no one else stood, would surrender to Drakken.

She also knew that it wouldn't matter if they did, as Drakken would kill Kim anyway. She was a threat to him, and any reign of Drakken would never last so long as Kim Possible was in any way free and/or alive.

It disgusted her that her husband had once called this man a friend.

"Wade," Ron said, "how's the trace?"

"I can get you to within a mile of the signal origin, but that's okay, because it's well within the range of the tracking devices I put in the battle suits."

"Great, I just need a ride and- did you say battle suits? As in plural? As in mine is finished?"

There was a knock at the door. Wade smiled.

"Yup."

Ron walked up to the door and opened it; everyone else followed him with their eyes. A FedEx man stood at the door, with a large package in hand.

"Delivery for Ron Stoppable," he said.

"Uh, that'd be me," Ron replied uncertainly. The man passed him a clipboard.

"Sign here, please."

Ron did so, and then exchanged the clipboard for the package. The FedEx man bade them good night, and then turned and left, shutting the door behind him. Ron looked at the package, and then looked back at Wade.

"Dude, how do you do that?"

"You don't wanna know," Wade replied. "Go try it on, and I'll get you a ride set up."

He told Mrs. Dr. Possible and his folks that he would be right back down, and then he raced up the stairs to change into his new battle suit. Normally he would have exulted a little bit more, but he was still embarrassed with himself, and indeed thoroughly infuriated; it was clear to him now that the kissing bandit had intended to separate him from Kim just so he could hand her over to Drakken. This led to seriousness, and a certain economy of action.

Still, as he entered his room and shut door, he couldn't help but feel... something. Kim still loved him, and he had never been so glad (and, yes, so self-effacingly angry) to have been wrong in his life. Perhaps thats what it was: some kind of bizarre mutant relief.

He realized exactly what it was as he opened the package and began to put on the battle suit. It was the old Ronish sense that, despite everything that had just happened, he was getting his own battle suit, and that was just too darn cool.

* * *

Sparks had made sure that he was out of frame when Drakken was making his broadcast. Now that the ultimatum had been issued he was helping Drakken with the final preparations for firing the death ray. Shego was busy deploying the synthodrone guards to where they could intercept any attackers. As such the room itself was actually rather quiet, with only the sounds of their work and Kim's struggles against her restraints breaking the stillness.

Which meant that it was somewhat surprising when to Sparks when Drakken started talking.

"Forgive me for asking," he began, "but what exactly do _you_ get out of helping _me_ conquer the world?"

"Come now, Dr. Drakken," he said with a smile. "One would get the feeling that you don't trust me. What about honor amongst thieves?"

"I'm not a thief, Sparks."

"Teleportation device."

"That's called _outsourcing_," Drakken said defensively. "At least I don't farm out work to India. But seriously, I heard you talking with Possible. And while I fully understand the tragic high school incidents and how that has made you who you are today... that still doesn't explain why you want to help _me_ take over the world."

"Let's just say that my... associates would be favorably disposed towards dealing with your regime, more so than they are towards the current governments in the world. If this works then they are quite willing to help you in your little world-wide coup... in exchange for, say, favorable tax status, or maybe a few advisory or high-level civil service positions."

"I see..." Drakken said slowly, and then he shrugged his shoulders. "Well, if your friends are willing to cooperate, and goodness knows it would make things easier, then such an arrangement just might be... workable."

"Excellent, Dr. Drakken. I shall communicate your agreement as soon as I can."

* * *

It was the same color as Kim's, white with blue stripping (he would have preferred red, but figured he could speak with Wade about that later). It went on the same way as hers; single piece bodysuit, with separate gloves, supply belt, and boots. Each of the pieces melded into each other when he put them on, so the suit itself functioned as one single unit. Wade had given him an instructional course back when he told Ron that he was working on a suit, so he already knew how the muscular enhancements and neural interfaces worked.

He struck a menacing pose and Rufus nodded in appreciation. Ron then picked up the ronnunicator and gave Wade a call.

"Hey, Ron. How's the suit?"

"I think it checks out," Ron replied. "Timing could be better, though. How's the ride coming?"

"He's en route now," Wade replied. "Should be there in a few minutes. In the meantime... put the ronnunicator down and look at your hands."

Ron complied, and heard the sound of Wade typing. Then the tips of his fingers extended a bit and took on the form of sharp claws.

It was at that point that Ron finally allowed himself to exult.

"Dude, badical! _Ferret claws!_" Ron cried, and took a few practice slashes at the air.

"And the best part," Wade said from the ronnunicator, "is that you can activate those just by thinking about it. I put 'em there for use in climbing, but you still have the wrist grappler. Just figured I'd give you something unique."

"Wade, you totally rock."

"And I'm not done yet," the fourteen year old said. "Check the package again."

Ron did, and this time noticed the nine inch long metal rod stuck in the bottom of the package. He pulled it out and was immediately struck by how heavy it was.

"What is it?"

"It's a _bo_ staff," Wade replied. "Try and activate it."

Ron held it out and thought for a second, trying to find the right command. He was almost surprised when it actually worked, and the staff extended to a length of five feet. It still weighted the same, but he recognized it as a perfectly balanced metal _bo_, similar to the one's he'd used at Yamanouchi.

"Dude, how-"

"A little something I was working on for the space center," Wade explained. "They wanted a way to optimize the transport, from earth to orbit, of long metal rods for use in space station construction. I figured out a way to use magnetic fields to extend and stabilize a high-density concentration of metal particles and still have it be as sturdy as a solid bar. Run a current through it, and the particles form a rod. Remove the current, and they retract into the tube. Not all that useful for space construction because of the power requirements, but I figured I'd keep the design, just in case.

"The staff draws power from the battle suit, so you have to hold on for it to work. If you let go it'll hold a charge for about fifteen seconds, and will stay charged if you grab it in that time period, but it'll shut down if you don't touch it for more than fifteen seconds."

"Gotcha, Wade," Ron replied. "Anything else I should know?"

There actually were a few Ron (and Rufus) specific gadgets and functions that Wade had built into the suit, so they spent a few minutes going over the items, figuring out the vagaries of the suit itself, and working on a plan of attack. Finally Wade informed him that the ride was just a few minutes out, and he was going to sign off and try to narrow down the signal track a little bit more.

"Good hunting," Wade said as he ended the transmission. Ron placed the ronnunicator on his bed again, and shut down the _bo_ and attached it to his belt, on the storage point that was located at the small of his back. He let out a breath, let all exultation and worry leave him, and then he looked around the room and took stock.

Still, he felt amazed that not ten minutes prior he'd been up here practically despairing of life, and now he was back in the saddle and about to charge straight... into... the lion's den.

_'Ron, old boy, as KP would say, cut the drama.'_

He didn't know for sure what he was about to face; certainly Shego would be there, and Drakken, and likely the kissing bandit, but he didn't know what else. Drakken, he wasn't worried about; while the man knew how to build a pretty decent laser cannon, some of the time, hand to hand to hand combat was not his strong suit. As for Shego... well, he'd gotten better in fighting, but he knew that she was way beyond his league. Somehow he'd have to get in there and free Kim before the fighting started, or else it'd be just another house of cheese event where they _both_ wind up in irons. He didn't know how he was going to do that; despite the battle suit, despite the ferret claws, despite the training that he'd received and the fact that he could hold own against minor foes, he was still the awkward clumsy one.

Then his eyes fell upon his nightstand, and there was Rufus standing upon it, looking up at him and gesturing towards the top drawer. The one with the false bottom.

He stood there, frozen; if there was one thing he feared as much as loosing Kim, it was what he secretly kept in that drawer. Yet embracing it might be the only way for him to save her.

He'd give anything for her, certainly he could do this.

Still, he hesitated.

"I dunno, Rufus."

The naked mole rat looked up at him with unyielding eyes.

_'Why have you kept it, then, if not for this moment?'_ was what Rufus' eyes seemed to say.

His fingers opened and closed, and finally Ron Stoppable reached out and pulled the drawer open. Actually, he pulled it out of the stand itself, emptied it onto his bed, and then pried open the false bottom. Then he removed from it a single piece of green stone.

The last fragment of the four jade monkey idols, which he had salvaged from Monkey Fist's manor all those years ago. The final piece of what had bestowed upon him the Mystical Monkey Power.

He held it in his hands, and looked at it, still unsure... and then he heard the sound of jet engines outside, and recognized the noise of a VTOL aircraft, and he placed the fragment and ronnunicator in pockets on his belt. Rufus scurried up to his shoulder and the two of them exited the room, and headed downstairs.

_'Hang on, KP. The Ron-man is on the way.'_

* * *

The ride, in this case, proved to be Mr. Dr. Possible, who had borrowed and was flying the hypersonic jet from the space center. Nana Possible stayed behind to keep an eye on the tweebs. Ron's parents wished him luck as he boarded the plane, and they stood arm-in-arm upon the driveway in order to see him off. For some reason none of this attracted attention, as if a just-barely-past-experimental-stage aircraft landing in the Stoppable's front yard was the single most natural thing on the planet. Of course, most of the neighbors, at least those who were still awake, had seen the broadcast and figured the plane had something to with that.

Aside from the formalities of goodbye and good luck there was no further preamble, for the plane took off just as soon as Ron and Mrs. Dr. Possible were on board and squared away. She was in the cockpit with Mr. Dr. Possible, while Ron was seated in the passenger area, alone in his thoughts. The infiltrations plans were already made, it would be a little while before the plane would arrive at the hideout, and Ron finally found a moment to just sit and think without some other crisis rearing its ugly head.

How, how, how in the world could he have thought that about Kim? He could have sworn that he had engraved in his head the concept that Kim would never... that she would never lock him in that closet again. He _knew_ that, blast it all, he knew that and still he'd-

Still he'd doubted. Ever since she'd left, he finally realized, there had been this single, persistent, accursed _doubt_ running in the back of his mind. That doubt had done little more than remind him of, well, of Mankey and Erik and everything they represented to him, and of Kim's penchant for falling head over heals for that type of man, to the loss of all reason, and the likelihood that she would find many such people while at college. He had spent the last few months shoving that doubt aside, feeling ashamed that he even felt it... until the photo had given it life, and the act at Bueno Nacho set it to saying "See? See? I was _right_!".

Now he cursed himself for even thinking it, as he realized that the Bueno Nacho and Club Banana incidents had been a scheme to separate the two of them, to make Kim vulnerable... and he'd fallen for it. Hook, line, and sinker he'd fallen for it, all because he hadn't had faith in her, hadn't had hope in their future, hadn't...

_'No, stop right there, Stoppable,' _he thought to himself. _'Enough. Whacking yourself upside the head like this ain't gonna solve a thing; it's over, it's done, and all you can do now is hope that she'll forgive you for doubting her like that. So get your brain in gear and get ready, 'cause now you're the one who has to come to the rescue. Then you'll be together again, wiser for the mistakes, and no power on earth can stop the two of you when you're together._

_'After all, hadn't even_ Shego_, of all people,_ _said that, together, we're actually pretty solid?_

_'Wait, she never said that. Where did that come from?'_

He shook his head and chalked it up to nerves. Either way, he knew he'd been a fool not to trust Kim. Now, he had to make it up to her. A last minute rescue would be a good way to do that (it had the advantage of rarity, and style), assuming he didn't die in the process. That, of course, turned his mind to the other thing he had to deal with, and he slowly removed the last jade monkey shard from one of his pockets.

He had never really liked the Mystical Monkey Power, and not just because of his deep-set Wannaweep induced fear of monkeys. He'd seen what just the _desire_ for the Power had done to Lord Fiske, and if his further changes were any indication of what the Power _itself_ could do to a person... then he didn't really want any part of that. Plus, the Power had been granted to him by four jade monkey idols, and that had unnerved him greatly; Rabbi Katz's teachings on idols had never been in uncertain terms, and the only reason why he'd used them in the first place was because he had no other choice, figuring that God would understand.

He had let the Power slide and fade over the years, and didn't involve himself in it, simply because of his aversion to it. Like all skills or abilities the Mystical Monkey Power needed to be practiced in order for the practitioner to maintain full use. For reasons already cited, Ron had never really embraced the Power, tried to make do without it (since he had Kim to lean on, this was rather easy), and let it wane. Indeed the only times it really came forth was in places that were rich in connection to the Power (such as Yamanouchi Japan), or times when something really, really ticked him off (such as when he was facing Erik atop Bueno Nacho headquarters).

So now he contemplated the last shard, knowing that now it was Kim who was depending on him to bail _her _out, and knowing that he simply wasn't up to the task on his own. Oh, he was ticked off enough, that was for sure, perhaps even more so that Bueno Nacho headquarters... but even then he hadn't been up to the synthodrone's level, and he figured that there was no way in the world Drakken and company would consent to taking a side trip to the natural reservoir in Yamanouchi.

But. Always a but.

The monkey idols hadn't just connected him to the Mystical Monkey Power, granting him improved flexibility, reflexes, and strength, they had also imparted to him the knowledge of the entirety of the monkey kung fu, as well as knowledge regarding the function of the idols themselves, if not of their history or source. That was how Ron knew to pocket a fragment of the idols even as he informed the British police that it would be best to simply destroy the remains: he knew, deep down, that the fragment, while unable to grant a new connection to the power, would be able to restore and revitalize a connection that had already been established. Such would be useful, in a pinch.

However, this time, there would be no chance for reservation on his part.

To open himself fully to such a power, the power that had, paradoxically, not only corrupted Montgomery Fiske but had also led to the creation of the Yamanouchi School... the thought terrified him. He'd seen what this power could do, and he did not want it, he didn't want to risk loosing himself to it as Fiske had done, but...

But if he did not risk that, then Kim would die, because he knew he wasn't the equal of what was holding her.

Voices, fragments of memory, came to his mind.

_'There will always be light to cut through your fears.'_

His grandfather, who had faced the loss of all he loved. He had also proclaimed that the things, people and all, that are loved are worth fighting for. Are worth risking all for. Are worth dying for. Love was the light, and the motivator.

_'Why have you kept it, then, if not for this moment?'_

The simple wisdom of Rufus. If not for this purpose, then for what, for when?

_'Do you love my daughter?'_

"With all I am," he whispered in answer to the last question, and clenched his fist around the shard. Then he relaxed his grip and held both hands out in front of him, side by side, with the shard resting in his palms.

He thought of the time in Fiske's manor, when the idols were activated by someone stepping into the middle of the formation that was based on sacred monkey geometry.

Nothing happened. Ritual was not enough.

He thought of Yamanouchi, and how strong in the Power that place was.

Again, nothing happened. Memory was not enough.

He thought of the first time that he'd been angry enough to kill, the time when they'd discovered Erik's true nature, and how the Power had enabled him to get in one good hit, and nearly hold his own, but not overcome in the fight.

Yet again, nothing happened. Anger was not enough.

He thought of Kim, of green eyes and red hair, of soft touches and a fiery heart, of all she was and all that she was to him, and of the fact that he loved her-

_'With all I am.'_

The stone began to glow, first yellow, then blue, and then a much brighter yellow, one that was almost white. He did not know what the color change signified, but he could _feel_ what it was doing. The Mystical Monkey Power, from which he had long fled, coursed towards him and through him; this time he did not turn away, but faced the onslaught and in his mind he opened his arms to it without reservation.

It found him, and filled him; it terrified him, and part of him screamed to turn away, but the rest of him saw naught but green eyes, and for love of those eyes he refused to turn.

_'You give of yourself freely?'_ he heard. The voice was like unto the stars; inscrutable, timeless, yet gentle and soft. Whether male or female, he could not tell.

_'Yes. I'll admit I'm scared, but for her sake... I'd do anything.'_

_'That is good, favored one. Many have dared such risks in the name of love; this will protect you. Fear not, for this is the legacy of the Power.'_

Then the light in his mind grew, and he saw no more for a long time, until once again he was aware of the interior of the aircraft. He looked down at the shard, and saw that it had crumbled into dust in his hands. He let the remains fall to the floor.

In that very hour, in Yamanouchi, the Lotus Blade sang for joy, its song the song of a sword drawn from its sheath. Of this none but Sensei took note, and he smiled in satisfaction.

In that very hour, seen by few, noted by none, the light from Venus, the morning star, waxed brightly, but only for the briefest of moments, and then it waned back to its former luminance.

In that very hour, for the cause of love, for the sake of his beloved, Ron Stoppable put his soul on the line and embraced the legacy of the Mystical Monkey Power, and was not consumed.

It had worked, he could feel it. The Mystical Monkey Power was there, in a greater degree than it had been before. Yet he was still Ron Stoppable; goofball, sidekick, beloved. That, despite his earlier fear, had not changed. In this he discovered the secret of the Mystical Monkey Power: Monty Fiske had not been corrupted by the power, rather, the power itself had been tainted by him, by the darkness of his selfish obsession.

Love protected him from that taint.

He let out a "Boo-yah", but restrained himself in volume, for he didn't want to attract the attention of the Drs. P.; what had just happened was something he wanted to think about for a good, long while before he even _tried_ to explain it to them. Still, his cry awakened Rufus, who poked his head out of his pouch on Ron's belt (yet another of the Ron-specific functions of his battle suit). He looked at Ron for a moment, and slowly perceived what had happened.

"Did you see any of that too, buddy?"

Rufus shook his head in reply. This time, the power had been for Ron alone.

Shortly thereafter a red light came on in the compartment, and Mrs. Dr. Possible called out that they were nearing the jump zone. Ron felt the plane decelerate as Mr. Dr. Possible slowed from the hypersonic range into supersonic, then to transonic, and then finally to subsonic speeds. Ron removed the ronnunicator from one of the pockets and strapped it to his wrist. After that he grabbed one of the parachutes from the racks and buckled himself up in it.

Then he called Wade.

"Ron?" Wade asked, sounding somewhat worried. "You okay? The battle suit lets me monitor your biometrics, and everything went off the scales a few minutes ago: pulse, brain waves, body chemistry... everything. What just happened?"

"Mystical Monkey Power, buddy," Ron said, almost jovially. "Nothin' to worry about."

"Right..."

"Anyway, Mrs. Dr. P. says we're at the jump zone. Can you display the telementrawhozit from Kim's tracker onto the ronnunicator?"

"I can do one better," Wade replied as he hit a few keys. Suddenly the display changed, and no longer showed Wade, but showed what only could have been a three-dimensional map of Drakken's layer.

"Dude, how?"

"Redirected a GJ satellite and performed a mapping scan," Wade said, his voice now faceless. "Figured you could use some real-time intel. Now, for the good part."

A few more keyclicks, and then a single red dot appeared on the map. It looked to be in the upper story of the large, central tower. Ron stared at the dot, not so much mesmerized by the rhythm of its blinking, but in realization of what that dot represented.

Kim's heartbeat.

Then the red light in the room changed to green, and the jump door began to open. Ron grabbed a visored helmet and put it, with Rufus helping to tightly buckle the chin-straps. Rufus, for his part, then climbed back into the Rufus-pocket on the battle suit, and sealed himself in. Mrs. Dr. Possible came over the intercom again, and said that he was cleared to jump. Ron walked to the door, grabbed the frame, and leaned out into the night air.

"Ronald!"

It was Mr. Dr. Possible, standing in the doorway that connected the passenger room to the cockpit. He looked at Ron with a hard face and harder eyes, but they were not hard in the way they had been during the "black hole deep" talks. Their hardness was that of a blacksmith's hammer, which he uses to beat heated iron and steel until it is in the proper shape for a sword, and that of a grindstone, which he uses to the give the sword an edge.

Mr. Dr. Possible wished to grant Ron an edge, to forge him into a sword worthing of bringing home his daughter. Ron responded with a look of similar hardness, and of utter resolved, one like unto a sword already forged and ready for arts and acts of war.

"You bring home my little girl," Mr. Dr. Possible said, his voice as hard, and demanding, as his countenance. There was respect there, and further trust between men: he made the demand of Ron because he knew that Ron would be capable of fulfilling the request.

"Not to worry, Mr. Dr. P.," Ron responded confidently, with a brief smile and nod. That seemed to satisfy Mr. Dr. Possible, for his face softened, and he smiled and returned to the cockpit even as Ron turned back towards the whipping wind.

"I'm not leaving without her," Ron whispered to himself.

Then he faced the night sky, and felt the currents of the airflow across the body of the plane, and felt it grow turbulent within the open door. His hands shifted position so that they no longer rested on the interior of the bulkhead, but were instead wrapped around the frame of the door, with most of the fingers outside within the airflow itself. He took one final breath, and steeled himself.

The Ron Stoppable flung himself out into the darkness.

END CHAPTER 4


	5. Reconciliation

_Love never fails; but if there are gifts of prophecy, they will be done away; if there are tongues, they will cease; if there is knowledge, it will be done away... But now faith, hope, love, abide these three; but the greatest of these is love. - 1 Corinthians 13:8, 13_

**Chapter 5: Reconciliation**

Ron normally hated free fall. He really and truly did. The rushing sound of the air, the view of the ground as he rapidly fell towards it, the fact that he had just jumped out of a perfectly sound aircraft for no other reason than a perceived need to reach the ground faster... more often than not he wondered what on earth Kim saw in it. All the adrenaline rush did was to induce in him a feeling of stark terror.

But that was then, for this day Ron Stoppable at last understood the rationale behind free fall, and finally learned the very definition of haste. His arms were tucked in at his side, to maximize speed and minimize drag, and his legs were stretched out behind him, giving him a shape approximating a primitive airfoil.

Some things simply required all sense to be tossed away, and for one to simply act.

_15. 14. 13._

He reveled in it, the speed, the mobility, the space and freedom from walls, the sensation of flight. Now the adrenaline brought no terror, just increased heart rate, rapid breathing, and the thrill of the plunge; with the rush came a flood of endorphines, which filled his blood and primed him to be ready, mentally and physically, for the fight to come.

What of that sudden change in reaction came from him, and what of it came from the Mystical Monkey Power, he did not know; indeed, he wasn't entirely sure how much a difference there was, now, between his abilities and the imparted capacity of the Power.

He didn't much care, either: to him, Kim was all that mattered.

He saw a single light piercing the night, and realized that it was the light from the tower where Kim was held. In seeing that light, he realized that he was a little bit off course, so Ron banked left and let the aerodynamic forces redirect him. Then he was on target again, heading just right of the solitary light in the mountain fortress. It would be an oblique approach, all the better to conceal himself from Drakken.

_12. 11. 10._

For so long he had been the squire, the sidekick, the retainer; he was always the one following in the paladin's shadow, occasionally taking a mission himself only when he deemed that to do so would benefit her. That had always been alright by him; he'd never been one for the heroic aspirations, and was content always to hang in the background and aid Kim, as best he could. So long as they were together, he rarely cared who got the glory.

Now, as he soared through the darkness, he realized that he had come to the squire's graduation day, and it was time for him to become a knight of his own accord. He didn't exactly have shining armor, though the battle suit came close and was quite bright; he had no sword, though the art of Tai Shing Pek Kwar and the Mystical Monkey Power would suffice to forge him into a living sword; he had neither shield with guidon emblazoned thereupon, nor flowing banner to ripple in the wind, yet love would serve for both.

The ideals that they shared would be his banner, and the love of the red hair and green eyes, and the woman who bore them, would be his shield. Already it had protected him from the taint left in the Power, and Ron trusted that it would guard him in the fight to come.

Still, even as the knight of the lady Kim dropped through the dark like a cast stone, he wished to all heaven that it had taken something besides the past few weeks to bring him to that place.

_9. 8. 7._

He would be alone, there was no help coming. Wade had informed him that most of GJ was currently occupied by various flash points that had ignited over the past three days. What few resources they had in range were currently occupied in Middleton, disabling and removing the nuclear device. It hadn't been a forty megaton device, but it was a functional nuke, though only in the six hundred kiloton range. That would have been enough, though, and Dr. Director did not want to take any chances that the device could still be activated.

A special response team had been sent, and was tasked with assaulting and capturing the hideout, but they would not arrive in time; it was already understood that their job would be cleanup, nothing more.

Halfway down, Ron spread his legs and arms, increasing his relative planform area, and thusly increasing the lift and drag forces. He would not stop falling, but he would slow, in preparation for the final move. At the same time, with naught but the command of a thought, the battle suit loosened around him, and its edges extended in small flaps. They became rigid at the border, and formed a two-inch wide membrane about him, becoming a tiny parachute which conformed to his outline. The flaps fluttered in the wind, and raised into arcs as they caught the air, and he slowed even more.

_6. 5. 4._

He glanced at the ronnunicator on his wrist, and for a second just watched the blinking of the red dot.

She was below him, waiting. Again he felt the idiot, knowing that his actions were partially responsible for placing her there. But he pushed aside all thoughts of self-recrimination, for there was no time. He was nearly there, and she needed him.

_3._

Ron banked once more, just to move away from the window, and then returned to level flight. He was trying for stealth, rather than the fastest possible approach, and as such he intended to make sure that he could not be seen from within the building.

Even so he was uncloaked, as he had a feeling that his arrival would need all the power the suit could provide, and Wade had warned him that the cloaking field would quickly drain the power supply.

_2._

His hand went to the ripcord at his chest. He whispered her name.

_1._

He pulled the cord, and his parachute deployed. In actuality it was a parasail, as black as the night sky above him, and was fully controllable. The dark sail billowed out behind him, and spread like the wings of some black angel of vengeance. His body jerked about as it was yanked upright, and the straps dug into his chest as the parasail endeavored to slow his descent. He noted and cared for these things not, save in how they affected his approach to the dark tower which held his love.

Such focus was heretofore unknown to him, save for those times that involved the Mystical Monkey Power, or a direct threat to Kim. Now both sitches were entwined within him, with the Power and the motivation working in full concert.

He grasped both control cords and then pulled down on the right hand one, causing the right edge of the sail to dip and bank him away from the tower. He returned to level flight when the approach was just oblique enough to where it would take him past the tower and away from the open window; these maneuvers were all to ensure that he would not be seen while on approach. A quick tug, down and back, on the control cords changed some of the lift force into thrust, allowing Ron to pick up just a bit more speed.

Then the windowless wall was to his left, he was even with it, and Ron yanked down hard on the left hand control cord. It was such a sharp bank that he seemed almost to pivot in the air, and for a moment he was nearly parallel to the ground, and then he was upright, and headed straight towards the wall, the sail again angled to give him speed as well as lift.

Ten feet away from the wall, he released the control cords.

Five feet away, he grabbed the lines which secured the parasail to the pack. These he held in two loose bunches, one in each hand.

Two feet away, he unsheathed the ferret claws and drew them across the lines, severing them, and allowing the parasail to float free. As he fell away from the sail his descent picked up speed, while he retained his forward momentum.

When he drew even with the wall he brought his hands up and around and grabbed for the tower, and the ferret claws dug deeply into the stonework. The muscles of his arms, shoulders, and chest, strained and stretched as they attempted to arrest his downward descent; large chunks of rock, and clouds of dust, fell upon his face as his claws dug deep furrows into the side of the tower.

Then, with a jerk that would have torn his arms from their sockets, save for the aid of the battle suit's augmentation and the the Mystical Monkey Power, Ron Stoppable came to a halt.

The jolt of his stop was such that his left hand came free, and for a time he simply hung there, solely supported by his right arm.

His fingers felt warm from friction, and he couldn't help but shudder a bit as he dangled there, dozens of feet above the ground. He brought his left hand up and unbuckled the straps which had secured the pack to him. The pack slipped off of him and fell to the ground below.

As was prudent, he refused to look down, but instead brought his left hand back up to the stone wall and began to work his way across the face of the tower, intent only on reaching the window that would allow him access into the interior.

Still, despite his focus, there was a part of him that reflected that it was a shame it wasn't storming, as it would have been really cool if his slide down the tower's face had been accentuated by lighting. Of course, that same part also decided that it was probably for the best, as any lighting would likely have fried him on the way down.

Traversing the sides of the tower was slow going; despite the claws it still took a great deal of force to get a proper grip on the stonework. The battle suit helped him to apply the necessary force, but it was the Mystical Monkey Power that would ensure his muscles were not overly fatigued. At last, though, he had traversed the distance from his "landing" point to the window.

The window itself was four feet wide and nearly five feet high, and the sill was constructed of some form of wood, likely oak. He reached up and grabbed the sill with both hands, commanded his suit to activate the cloaking field, and then Ron lifted himself up and climbed up on the sill, where he then sat on his haunches and surveyed the room.

The he realized quite belatedly that he needn't have worried with the covert approach.

Given the relative dimensions of the room to the window, and the angles involved, there was no way anyone could have seen him parachute in. Given that three of the people in the room, namely Drakken, Shego, and the kissing bandit, were looking at either the bound Kim or the death ray, he figured it was unlikely that they would see him in the window if he were uncloaked, either. Still, there was no need to take the risk, so he kept the cloaking field on.

Of course, while the angles were screwed up enough to where he was effectively under cover, they_ weren't_ screwed up enough to keep him from making an entrance.

First he removed the ronnunicator from his left wrist; which he'd strapped there just in case he needed the homing beacon to guide him to the target, and stowed it in its holster. Then he tapped the pocket that Rufus was in, and coaxed out the little naked mole rat.

"Okay, buddy," he whispered as he pulled out a few items from another pocket, "here's the plan. I need you to put these on, and then go and free Kim, okay? I'll deal with the ray gun thingy."

He'd handed Rufus a set of mole rat-sized climbing spikes, which Rufus quickly strapped to his feet, and a set of lock picks, which Rufus strapped to his back. The spikes, which worked on a similar principle to Ron's ferret claws, would allow Rufus to gain purchase on the stone walls, while the lock picks would let him unlock the binders that held Kim in place, assuming there were no convenient buttons for him to push.

"You ready, buddy?"

Rufus nodded, only slightly confused: he knew about the cloaking field, so Ron's voice, and various items, coming out of thin air didn't surprise him as much as it could have. Either way, he understood his mission perfectly.

"Great. Rufus... you know what she means to me, right?"

"Uh-huh," Rufus answered with a nod.

"Good. Stay in the shadows... but move quickly. Good luck, buddy."

Rufus nodded and scurried off, the spikes allowing him to run along the walls without falling. Ron turned away from the mole rat's path and surveyed the room once again. He was nearly in line with the death ray itself, which resembled a large, oblong egg, stuck atop a combination tripod mount and computer, with one large tube, which was surrounded by four smaller tubes and myriad wires and cables, coming out one end.

The room itself was lit, but only adequately so. The stone was a dark gray, and was covered in shadows. It was a dark and dismal place, intended not for comfort but rather to hold instruments of death, and to the be the place of their utilization, with a dank grimness designed to suck the hope from the unlucky souls who would find themselves in such a place.

Kim's battle suit, Ron noticed, was easily the brightest object in the room, there was so little light.

Drakken was standing at the control panel of the death ray, fiddling with something. Shego was to the left of the death ray, and was leaning against the same wall to which Kim was bound. The kissing bandit was to the right of the death ray, standing still, and seemed to be watching Kim with great eagerness.

And there was Kim herself; beautiful, radiant in her defiance, bound yet struggling against her captivity. For a brief moment he again felt the fool, but then something arose in his chest and drove away all thoughts of self-recrimination. He could feel silly later; now was the time for love to become courage, and the impulse towards gallant action. Reluctantly he turned his gaze away from her, and began to plan his attack.

Then Drakken let out a triumphant exclamation, and an ominous hum began to issue forth from the death ray. Then there was no more thought, no more contemplation, but only action, for Ron then leapt from his perch. Partways down he twisted in the air and aimed a wrist grapnel at one of the rafters, one that was almost directly above the death ray. It struck and held fast, and Ron became a pendulum, and he swung through the air and aimed his feet towards the death ray.

His feet connected with the barrel of the death ray even as it fired, and his momentum was such that the death ray was knocked off target, and its emerald beam struck hard stone rather than Kim Possible.

The ray continued to rotate in a wide arc, forcing Drakken to dive to his left to ensure that he would not be struck by it. Chucks of rock and great clouds of dust flew from the wall as the beam continued to pour forth its deadly energy, until at last the power cells were exhausted and the death ray fell silent.

Ron had severed the grappling cable as soon as the death ray stopped moving. He then began to fall to the floor, but managed to catch himself before he hit, and then performed a handspring which landed him directly on top of the barrel of the death ray. The Mystical Monkey Power gave him the balance to maintain that perch and not fall; so it was, then, that Ron at last stood erect upon the death ray, invisible and within a cloud of dust and smoke.

_Then_ he deactivated the cloaking field.

The first to see him was Drakken, who was lying upon the dais and had been starring at the death ray in stupefaction, wondering just what exactly had happened. Then the blue doctor perceived a silhouette atop the barrel of the death ray, and the silhouette turned towards him as the dust cloud began to fade.

Even as his shape became clear, Ron Stoppable removed his helmet and showed his face unto his foes, and his expression was again as it had been that night atop Bueno Nacho headquarters. His mouth was set grim, like a harbinger of death; the look in his eyes was as cutting as the archangel's sword; and his hair lay strewn and messy upon his head.

Drakken's face took on a look of utter surprise and fear, and he began to scoot across the floor, away from the grim visage of his arch-foe's sidekick.

"You said he wouldn't be here!" Drakken yelled in a panic. "Now look what you've done! You've brought the _serious face_ down upon us all!"

"Told ya so," came a smug voice from Ron's right.

It was Kim who spoke. She had initially turned her head, not away from the incoming green death, but rather away from the from torrent of dust and rock that had erupted just left of her head. She had realized that an invisible something had thrown the death ray off target, and though she did not see it with her head turned and eyes shut against the debris, she knew, in her heart, who it was.

Ron had come for her.

Just as she knew he would.

Then her eyes were opened, and they glittered up at him. Ron turned to face her, his face initially set serious, but it would not stay that way; the light in her eyes, and the gratitude and confidence that were found in the mischievous look of her smile, changed his face from grimness to a wide, bright grin. Even in that dark, dank place, whose every nook and cranny was designed to beat against the soul and drag it down in despair, even in that place the Ronshine could not be held back. For a moment their foes were forgotten, and they reveled and silently laughed at the joy of the sight of each other.

"SHEGO!" Drakken cried, his wits regained with the removal of the serious face. "Get him!"

The spell around them was broken, and Ron returned his mind to readiness.

"Oh, please," Shego replied, sounding very unconcerned. "Me, take on the sidekick? So not worth my time."

"SHEGO!"

"Look, Dr. D., just because you have "serious face" issues... never mind. All I have to do is push this button-"

She pressed a small alarm switch, and then the doors to the room opened and thirty synthodrones began to pour in. Ron briefly look at them, and noted that they were carrying the old stunner/blaster force staves. He also noted that, were he to try and dodge their blasts from his current perch, there was a good chance that the stray bolts would strike Kim.

"-and the buffoon will run off to cower," she continued dismissively. "Just like he always did."

Ron turned back to Kim, his face apologetic... and then he whirled and flung his helmet at the kissing bandit, who was attempting to sneak up on him as Ron studied the synthodrones. The helmet struck true, a good hit to the head, and knocked him to the floor.

Ron immediately went into a crouch and lashed out with his right hand, severing many of the wires and conduits on the upper area of the death ray's barrel; this elicited a cry from Drakken, who realized that Ron's actions had just disabled the death ray.

Then he leapt into the air, not away from the synthodrones, but _towards_ them.

* * *

_'Well, I guess I'll just hang around here, then,'_ Kim thought to herself as she watched Ron leap into battle. She had hoped that he would have released her first, but she recognized the strategic limitations of the situation even better than he did. Instead she redoubled her efforts to get loose from the bonds, knowing that it was futile, but also knowing that she had to try _something_.

She saw Ron land amongst the synthodrones.

She did not, however, notice that Drakken had begun to repair the death ray.

"Psst!"

She looked up, and saw a pink shape waving at her.

"Rufus!" Kim whispered excitedly. The naked mole rat was clinging to the wall, just above her hands.

"Hello!"

"Rufus, get me out of here," Kim said, still watching the unfolding battle. "I need to help Ron!"

* * *

He landed in a crouch, his left hand held forward for balance, and his right at his back, ready to draw and activate his _bo_. The synthodrones were older models, ones built more for power and aggression rather than finesse. Unlike the Erik model these didn't even look _human_, for instead of a face they had a gas-mask like structure: eyeless, emotionless, which would make them a lot harder to read. Still, the Mystical Monkey Power allowed him to infer from their movements that, while they were relatively skilled fighters, they were nothing special, and were operating off of a limited skill set, and would take time to react to something sudden.

They would be vulnerable to a blitzkrieg.

He also realized, without aid of the Power, that they were attempting to encircle him. The synthodrones were arranged in a partial ox-head formation, with nearly equal weight of foes at the head and both ends of the horns.

Ron decided not to give them the chance. In a single motion he both drew his _bo_ and charged the center of the synthodrone formation. The _bo _he held grasped in his right hand and braced against the back of his right arm; his left hand was extended in front of him, the ferret claws unsheathed.

He leapt just in front of the first synthodrone and grasped its head with his left hand. The claws pierced the pseudo-skin, and green goo spurted from the holes as Ron drove his deflating adversary into the ground. As soon as Ron's feet hit the floor he struck again, this time using the _bo_ to sweep the legs of the synthodrone to his right; after a quick turn and change of footing he thrust the _bo_, this time using both hands, to his left, and tore a hole in the synthodrone that was on that side. A downward smash kick with the heel of his right foot popped the fallen synthodrone.

This also caused him to slip on the pooled syntho-goo and fall to the floor.

This proved fortuitous, as several of the synthodrones on his flanks had taken aim at him with their blaster staves, and were in the process of firing when he fell. Thusly their shots took out four of the synthodrones, rather than taking out one Ron.

Ron quickly regained his footing and felled the last two synthodrones, that were in the middle formation at least, with a pair of quick jabs from his _bo_. Again he moved before his opponents could react, this time charging into what had been the left most (from Ron's perspective, but it was the actual right flank of their formation) horn of the ox formation.

* * *

Kim realized, suddenly, that she was staring, open mouthed, at the fight. She'd realized that something had been different about Ron; there had been a certain air about him when he'd stood upon the death ray, a certain seriousness backed up by barely concealed capability. Still, she hadn't expected him to chew through nine synthodrones that quickly. She'd _never_ seen him fight that intensely before... or that _well_.

The synthodrones hadn't even had time to attack before Ron had dispatched them.

Even Rufus had stopped work on the locks, and was watching Ron with a stunned expression on his face.

"Okay, maybe I _don't _need to help Ron. Rufus?" Kim asked. "How did Ron get that..."

_'Good?' _she thought, but did not say.

"Monkey Power!" Rufus chattered.

"Monkey Power?" Kim said quietly, not fully believing it. "But I thought Ron hated the Mystical Monkey Power. So why... why would he..."

Rufus just shot her a pointed look and went back to trying to pick the lock.

"Oh," was all Kim said in reply.

She turned back to Ron, her expression more soft than shocked; she smiled at him appreciatively, and she felt her eyes water as her heart was moved and touched within her.

_'Ron Stoppable... sometimes you are just too sweet for your own good...'_

* * *

His plan had been to charge straight through the enemy's right flank, and then turn and reengage; this way he would have all of his foes in front of him, instead of being surrounded by them. However, the synthodrones showed that they did have at least some degree of adaptability and closed ranks, thusly denying him a passage through. Still, his six was partially covered, thanks again to the genius of Wade Load.

Kim had arranged to have Wade study the remains of Erik, specifically a sample of the syntho-goo and the limp rag of pseudo-skin. From that study Wade had developed an anti-synthodrone caltrop, one which would pierce pseudo-skin but not the hardier materials used in the battle suits. The caltrops functioned in similar manner to Ron's _bo_ staff, except they had their own internal power supply based off of the kimmunicator's trilithium batteries. This meant that Wade was able to make the caltrops extremely small, and therefore could store a large number of them in the limited space available in the utility belts.

He had equipped their utility belts with a delivery system for the caltrops, which was driven by motions of the gluteal muscles, and Ron had activated his even as he charged the other group, and deployed nearly two dozen of the caltrops in his wake. Their power systems activated once they hit the ground, and each device deployed five one-inch long sharp spikes.

Five of the left flank of synthodrones deflated and collapsed as their feet were punctured by the tiny spikes.

By that time Ron was well upon the right flank. He feinted towards the lead synthodrone, in imitation of his first attack. The synthodrone bought it, and moved his stave upwards to protect his head. Ron instead dropped low and swept its legs with his own.

Quickly he returned to his stance, just in time to twist out of the way of another shot attack and engage the synthodrone to his right in a brief staff battle. Ron blocked a pair of blows, one aimed as his torso, the other at his head. Then a strike from Ron's _bo_ snapped the stave in two, and then an upward swing tore a ragged gash in the synthodrone's head, one that was drawn from chin to crown.

Ron then leapt upon another synthodrone. With his left hand he opened a small hole on synthodrone's chest, and then quick as a wink he moved behind it, and pressed his arms and _bo_ around the hole, which forced the goo out in a hard stream. This he directed at the approaching synthodrones from the left group, and the force of the stream was enough to knock them slightly backwards, and the slickness of the goo was enough to send them sliding off balance into the remaining caltrops.

He flung the emptied sack of pseudo-skin onto the synthodrone that he'd earlier knocked over, and then noticed that he was at last surrounded. But only partially so: the synthodrones were concentrated to his right and his rear, there was but one in front of him, and nothing but wall to his right. Still, he did not stand and ponder, nor did he quake in fear, for his purpose fed off of something stronger than his fear. He simply acted.

Ron flung his _bo_ like a spear, and aimed it at the face of the synthodrone in front of him. It struck true and penetrated far; indeed the synthodrone's face was stretched inward, and the form of the _bo_ extended out even the back of its head, in almost cartoonish fashion. Then the elastic pseudo-skin sprung back to it's original shape, and the _bo_ was shot out of its head; even so the pseudo-skin of the face was pierced, and the synthodrone began to collapse as the syntho-goo slowly leaked out.

Ron was not idle during all this. Even as the _bo_ impacted the head of the synthodrone, he'd already clawed another one, this time by sweeping its legs and then "catching" it with his clawed right hand. He flung the collapsing husk at another synthodrone (by coincidence, the one he'd already tripped up and then flung a previous pseudo-skin sack at).

Then Ron ducked the _bo's_ return flight, and it sailed over his head and struck one of the synthodrones behind him. This one it did not pierce, for it had lost much of its kinetic energy in the impact with the other's head. Still, it was enough to knock the synthodrone back a piece.

He caught it out of the air after its rebound from the second synthodrone, which he then dispatched by spinning to face it and driving his left hand straight through its torso. Then there were only six left, all lined up in a row, and Ron charged through them with swinging _bo_ and slashing claws, and he felled them like dominoes. They tried to fight, but as with all the others before them, not a single blow connected.

At last he was alone on the floor, and he took a moment to shake off the leftover syntho-goo.

Then he pumped a fist in the air and let out a great "Boo-yah!".

His celebration was cut short when Kim yelled for him to look out, and he barely dodged in time to avoid Shego's fist. He faced her down, _bo _held at ready, again held out behind him and to his side, braced against the back of his right arm.

"I gotta hand it to you, Stoppable," Shego said with a grin. "You've gotten a lot better. Still not in my league, I mean, but you did cut through thirty synthodrones just like _that_."

She punctuated the last statement by snapping her fingers.

"I mean," she continued with a laugh, "now _I_ gotta deal with _you_. How did you get this good anyway? Never mind: don't know, don't care. All I know is, while you cut through the synthodrones pretty quickly, _I've_ done it _faster!_"

At the statement of "faster" her hands blazed emerald and Shego launched to the attack. Ron, for the first time since he'd swooped in, found himself on the defensive, barely able to dodge or parry Shego's myriad kicks and punches, much less mount a counter-offensive. He made a valiant attempt, though, and was occasionally able to get in a kick or _bo_ swipe.

More often than not, though, it was Shego's attacks that connected, though he managed to avoid a good number of them. Even with the fullness of the Mystical Monkey Power, which had enabled him to triumph against the synthodrones, the differences in training and experience between himself and Shego was simply too great. No sooner would he dodge a punch, or block one with his _bo_, than she would immediately follow up with a kick to his side, or a leg sweep, that would connect.

Not to say that she was completely owning him, of course; were Shego to be questioned about this battle, she would have little to say of it, though the look in her eyes would betray the fact that it was far closer than it looked.

Then Ron thought he saw an opening, and he thrust out with his _bo_, aiming the end for her stomach. But the opening was as ruse, and Shego twisted around his attack, and immediately delivered a full-on power kick to his sternum, a blow which knocked Ron several feet backwards. He skidded to a halt, his footing barely secure, just in time to see Shego leap into the air and come back down towards him, ready to hew him in twain with a glowing fist.

Ron changed his grip on the _bo_, so that his right hand was clasped around one end, his left hand was resting atop that same end, and the majority of the _bo_ itself was extended behind him, and angled towards the ground. When Shego was almost upon him he drove the _bo_ into the ground and _then_ leapt away. This caused him to pivot like a pole-vaulter, the _bo_ serving as a moment-arm which levered him into the air.

Still, he barely cleared the ground before Shego landed. She smote the floor with her blow, and the impact left a small crater and a cloud of dust. Even so she took no time to recover, but instead immediately leapt after Ron, her arc in the air a mirror of his own.

When Ron reached the apex of his move he shifted his hands again; now both hands were beneath him, his legs partially outstretched before him, as if he sat in a chair, and he balanced himself on the top of the now vertical _bo_. For a moment he sat there, the Power balancing him, and he appeared suspended as if by hands invisible. Then Shego drew even with him, and he lashed out with his right foot and struck her across the face. Then he pulled the _bo_ out from under him, and pivoted in the air even as he fell, and with a great cry he swung the _bo_ like a baseball bat and struck Shego in the side, and sent her careening to the ground. She landed in a heap.

He landed on his feat, and twirled the _bo_ flashily as he brought it to a ready guard position.

"Still not in your league, Shego?" he taunted with a smirk.

"So. Not. Even. _Close_," Shego replied with a laugh, and then rolled to her feet and answered him with a flurry of plasma bolts. The first few shots impacted before Ron could engage his shield; as a result his _bo_ was damaged and knocked out of his hands. Then the shield activated, though this left him immobilized, for Wade had not yet figured out how to allow motion within a full-body force field.

Shego pressed her advantage and charged him, still firing the emerald plasma even as she ran. Ron was forced by the shield to stay in place as she drew near, until at last Shego impacted and bowled him over. Ron quickly deactivated the shield (it had earlier been on emergency override, and would not respond to commands to shut down so long as there was incoming fire) and he and Shego grappled and wrestled for a moment. He tried to throw her off, or roll over, but she had him pinned to the floor, and denied him the leverage he needed.

Ron grasped her wrists, trying to hold her arms at bay; it was clear that she was trying to aim a plasma-enhanced blow for his head. He figured that would likely be fatal, and thusly wasn't something he wanted to allow. Still, she pressed hard, her lithe body able to deliver far more force than it appeared it could; besides, he was limited somewhat in his motions, as one of her knees was perilously close to his-

"Uh, Shego?" he grunted as they struggled. "Think you could move that knee? I might need those later..."

"No, I don't think you will," Shego replied with a grin, as her hands began to inch towards his head. "You got yourself one heck of a upgrade, Stoppable, I'll give you that... never thought getting to fight you would actually be _fun_. Too bad it's gotta end."

Shego adjusted the angle of her right arm, intending to simply bypass Ron's grip and smash his skull.

Then there was a blur of white and blue, and a flash of green and red, and then a knee was driven into Shego's side, and with a great cry she was knocked away from Ron.

A lithe angel then stood in front of him, her head crowned with flowing red hair, her body covered in glowing white, and accentuated with blue striping.

"Hands off the boyfriend, Shego," Kim ordered.

"Boyfriend, huh?" Shego moaned from where she lay. "That's not what I heard."

"Well, you heard wrong," Ron interjected from the ground.

Kim turned and fixed him with an affectionate smile. He grinned, somewhat sheepishly, back up at her.

"Hey Ron," she said happily. "Nice suit."

She held out a hand, and he took it, and allowed her to help him to his feet. He did not let go of her hand, and so they stood, hand in hand, their eyes focused only each other.

"Thanks, KP. Wade figured we should, you know, finally match. Or something."

"So I see," Kim replied, and looked Ron over, her eyes missing no detail. Then she smiled at him.

"You look dang sexy in that," she informed him. Ron felt his face go warm as he blushed furiously.

"Kim, please..." he protested. "Not in front of the arch-foes..."

She giggled a bit, and Ron finally released her hand, and brought his own up and tenderly caressed her face with his fingers. There was so much more that he wanted to say, and to do, but he knew there was little time. So he simply touched her, and let his fingers and eyes do the talking. He felt his heart begin to swell with the same feeling he'd had in the window, the same longing ache just for another moment with her. Something of this must have shown in his eyes, for he heard Kim whisper to him that it was all right, they were together again...

His eyes became misty, and he traced her jawline with his fingers.

Then his fingers reached her lips, and his face became dark and grim, and the mist in his eyes cleared, for his fingers had found the dried trail of blood from her split lip.

"Which one?" he asked. No longer was his voice light, and no more did his heart swell in pleasure at the sight and feel of her; now something dark and dangerous was arising in him, something native to all men, yet in his case fueled by the Mystical Monkey Power.

Someone had dared to strike her. That would not stand.

"Take a guess," she replied quietly, then directed his attention over his shoulder. "Speaking of such..."

Ron turned slightly, and saw that the kissing bandit had recovered from his earlier encounter with Ron's crash helmet, and was now moving in behind him.

"He have a name?" Ron said, turning back to Kim.

"Phillip Sparks," Kim replied. "Why?"

"Just figured I should know his name, 'fore I go all Monkey Power on him," Ron replied savagely. "You might want to look sharp too, KP. I think Shego's moving again."

Kim nodded.

"Just like usual, huh?"

"Hey, _I_ may not be in her league," Ron replied, finally grinning again, "but I'll bet money that _you_ are."

"Always the flatterer. You really know how to get a girl's heart going."

"I try," he replied with a wink. "Anyway, you deal with Shego... I'll handle pheromone-boy."

She raised an eyebrow at him. He shrugged his shoulders, and looked somewhat embarrassed.

"Your, uh, your mom told me... I woulda come anyway, you know..."

"I know," Kim replied quietly. "Kick his butt, Ron."

Then they both turned, and were arrayed back to back, each one facing their chosen foe: Ron to Sparks, Kim to Shego. Then they drew themselves into a fighting stance, their movements like unto the sound of the tuning of a symphony orchestra. For a moment, ere they faced their foes and began to play their own parts in that movement of the great music, they moved as one, each motion echoed by the other.

Then their parts began.

* * *

He could tell, just from the way that Sparks held himself, that the older had some training in the warrior arts... but nothing akin to the level of instruction that Shego had. Already Ron was anticipating what moves his opponent would make, as he used the evidences of stance and musculature to discern not just strength, but what motions Sparks was used to making, what kinds of attacks he had practiced for long hours.

Ron was beginning to think that he rather liked the Mystical Monkey Power now, and that it might just be a good idea to keep it practiced.

Sparks was dressed the same way he had been at Club Banana, all in black, save the dark blue shirt; the only difference was that he wore a pair of combat boots instead of dress shoes, and the strange lapel pin that he'd worn was there no longer. Ron watched, without comment, as he wisely shed the coat.

"I'll admit that I'm very surprised, Mr. Stoppable," Sparks began. "I didn't figure you'd come to fight for one as faithless as her."

"Dude, don't even start," Ron warned. "I know your tricks, boy; you ain't playing me like that again."

"Tricks? Mr. Stoppable, I'm not talking about tricks... I'm talking about human nature. Women like her will always be faithless to guys like us."

"See, now you're just talking crazy," Ron said, his grin feral.

"So I'm crazy now? Who was it that left her in the dark, Mr. Stoppable? You wouldn't have thought me so crazy then, I think."

Ron grinned no more, rather his face became a dark, expressionless mask, one which hid his inner turmoil. He had enabled all of this, just by the act of turning his back on Kim. Just by believing a lie, and letting his fears take hold, this person in front of him had been in a position to-

He had struck her.

He had drawn blood, Kim's blood. Not in a fight, or else there would have been other injuries, others signs of a struggle.

He had struck her. Gratuitously. Ordinarily, an enemy wouldn't have been able to. But this time, he was, for Kim had been rendered vulnerable. An opening, one quickly exploited by the enemy, had been created.

Because Ron had run. Because he'd seen this _brigand_ steal a kiss (a kiss, of all things!), and had gotten scared.

But that was no excuse.

Already Sparks was charging him, having seen his words work their intended effect of distracting Ron and giving him an opening. He aimed a blow at Ron's head; it was accurate and sure, and not at all clumsy. Sparks even put his entire weight behind it, just to give it that much more force.

Ron barely moved, only leaning his head and shoulders enough to cause the blow to miss his right ear by bare millimeters. Then his right arm shot out, and his open palm smacked against Spark's forehead. The older man's attack was thus arrested, and he partially flipped over and flew backwards, until he landed flat on his back three feet away from Ron.

He quickly regained his feet. Then Sparks caught site of what he was facing.

No longer was Ron's face blank and expressionless, and no more did it sport any sort of grin; rather it was utterly serious, calm and collected, yet intrinsically wild and feral; the face of the Slayer, the face of Death. His fists were not clenched, for his claws were unsheathed and set ready to slash and flay, ready to fight tooth and claw as a beast, yet with the underlying intellect of a man. His stance fairly screamed its offensive intent, yet it left no opening for attack.

Had Ron considered it, he would have shuddered at just how much he looked like Shego at that moment.

Civility and savagery were fully entwined within him now, and Ron Stoppable wasted no further moments, but moved to attack as soon as his opponent was standing.

He intended to enjoy it.

* * *

Some would say that they were like water and oil, two substances that would never mix. That was a fair enough comparison, but it wasn't fully accurate. A better description would be to say that they were like an electron and a positron, two items of nearly identical spin and mass, but with different charges, and which would utterly annihilate each other on contact.

Given this comparison it was entirely natural, if somewhat anticlimactic, that Kim Possible and Shego would wind up in a fight at every encounter. Indeed, as with the electron and positron, they were nearly identical: young, female, exceedingly fair, highly skilled, utter unwilling to admit defeat, and they were alike in ways that not even they knew. Yet, as with the electron and position, they were dark images of each other, possessed of opposite charges.

One given to good, one given to evil.

Since the one was good, of course, she let her opponent take a moment to steady herself. It was only _sporting_ of her, after all. Shego, of course, felt no such constraints, and began her attack with a flurry of plasma shots.

Kim reformed the right hand of her battle suit into a _xistera _glove (or _cesta-punta_, the wicker glove used in jai alai) and caught the first shot. She twisted out of the way of the second and third shots, and then launched the captured shot on a collision course with the fourth shot. They annihilated each other in a flash of light and smoke.

Through that flash and cloud came Shego, aiming a flying kick at Kim's head. Kim ducked to the side and attempted to strike Shego in the back with her left arm. Shego blocked with her own left, and then she twisted slightly as her feet struck the ground, and she keep her arm pressed against Kim's. They struggled there for a bit in a test of will and strength, with Shego's plasma sparking against the point-shields of Kim's battle suit.

"Ya know," Shego grunted, "I _still_ can't believe that you went from our best synthodrone to the _sidekick_."

"I only wish I'd skipped the synthodrone in the first place," Kim grunted in reply. "Ron's a _much_ better catch."

"Oh really? I guess you never tried Erik out, then."

"What?"

"C'mon, Princess," Shego said with a leer, "who do you think took him out for a test drive?"

"And this is supposed to bother me _why_?" Kim growled. Then she simply stopped pushing, and let herself fall backwards. This caught Shego off balance, causing the dark haired woman, who was still using both her legs and upper body to push against Kim, to fall with her.

Shego let out a yelp of surprise, and Kim planted her left foot in her stomach and pushed up, causing Shego to flip head over heals past her. Shego's skills didn't fail her, though, for she was able to catch herself by digging her claws into the floor. She came to a stop within striking distance of Kim, who had sprung to her feet with her back to Shego.

Shego pivoted about her wrists and swung her legs in a wide arc, with the intent to sweep Kim's legs out from under her. Her movements were betrayed, however, by a grunt of exertion that she let out. Kim heard the grunt and acted instinctively; she executed a perfect blind back flip _over_ Shego's attack and landed on her hands. Both combatants flipped and rose to their feet at the same time, and neither wasted a moment before returning to the fray.

Their attacks consisted of a rapid series of punches and kicks, each blow either blocked or parried by the other, each defensive move followed by a quick riposte.

"You know, Shego, I'm surprised," Kim said nonchalantly, as she dodged a blow aimed for her head.

"'Bout what?" Shego replied, as she twisted away from Kim's right-left counter blow.

"Never figured - oof - you and Drakken for the sort that would play second fiddle," Kim continued, catching a kick in the ribs mid-sentence. "I mean, sure it's all Drakken's stuff... but someone _else_ making the plan, someone _else _breaking the two of your out of prison? Let's face it, Shego: whoever Sparks works for has the two of you _so_ outclassed."

"Don't worry about us, Princess," Shego said as she dodged another attack. "If Sparks and friends try to cause us trouble, I'll take care of them... just like I'll take care of _you_."

Shego punched at Kim's head again; this time Kim didn't dodge the blow, she simply caught and held it.

"That's just it, Shego... you _can't_ handle me; _he _had to do that for you," Kim said smugly. Then she threw Shego's hand aside and jumped back a pace. The taunt had the intended effect, for Shego roared in anger and dived at Kim, her claws out, and her left arm swinging in a glowing swipe aimed for Kim's head.

Kim ducked and tumbled beneath the wide blow, and came up in a crouch behind her. She then jutted out her left leg and spun, and swept Shego's legs out from under her. When Kim had completed a ninety-degree rotation she stopped, drew her leg back in, and then leapt up into the air even as Shego fell. As she leapt she brought her right knee up, and slammed it into the back of Shego's head with a resounding clack.

Shego's head snapped forward, and her chin touched her chest. She fell to the ground with a mighty crash, and her head snapped back and collided with the floor with a sickening thud.

She would move no more that night.

"What'd I tell you?" Kim said triumphantly.

She looked to Ron, to see how his fight was going. Then she felt it again, as she had in Bueno Nacho, and in Club Banana; and there was the voice of Phillip Sparks, commanding her to remain in place.

* * *

The artificially handsome face of Phillip Sparks had been marred. Five red lines, connected by rivulets of flowing blood, crossed one side of his face. The wounds were shallow, for Ron hadn't put much force behind the swipe, just enough to break the skin. Several other cuts criss-crossed Sparks' arms and legs, each a mark that Ron had left upon him, each in payment for the mark that he had left upon Kim Possible.

For every blow that Sparks tried to deliver, Ron would reply with two, often a punch-claw combination; each of these would connect and strike true, while Sparks could not even touch Ron. Yet Ron's attacks were not as strong as they could have been; indeed, despite Sparks' fitness, and ability to take a hit and keep on moving, Ron knew that he could have easily felled his opponent in no more than three moves.

He could have.

He chose not to.

That would have ended the fight far too quickly for his liking. He wanted to make Sparks _hurt_ for this, and a hundred relatively light hits would hurt him far, far more than three all-out blows would. Then of course, he would end the hurt... forever.

So Ron prolonged the fight.

This was very foolish of him.

Even though held back in the intensity of his blows, the ferocity and anger that he felt was still written upon his face, and was evident in his eyes.

"You're angry," Sparks observed as he took another punch to the abdomen.

"Dude, ya think? After what you did..."

"After what _I _did? Mr. Stoppable, I was trying to do you a favor-"

He was cut off by a punch to his jaw.

"A favor? A _favor_?" Ron growled. "Stealing a kiss from Kim, _hitting_ her, brain-warping her with those pheromones of yours, making me think- you call _that_ 'doing me a favor'?"

Ron grabbed Sparks by the collar of his shirt, and held his left hand poised to strike.

"You're not mad a me, Mr. Stoppable," Sparks said, far too calmly for his situation.

"Oh yeah? Then who am I mad at?"

"You're mad at yourself."

Ron release Sparks, and flinched backwards as if he'd been hit. He stood there for a moment, as if stunned.

"You're mad at yourself," Sparks continued, "for having left her there at Bueno Nacho, for having believed every little trick that I threw at you. You said I made you... not I didn't, Mr. Stoppable, and you know it as well as I.

"I can't _make_ you do anything. You acted as you did because you _chose _to believe my illusions, because deep down you know, that even though what you saw was a lie, you know that what you saw is inevitable; that in end, she'll leave you.

"Because the two you never loved each other in the first place."

Then Sparks knocked Ron over with a blow to the head. Ron sputtered a bit as he lay dazed upon the floor, until he heard Sparks talking again.

"Love doesn't exist, Mr. Stoppable, there's only the chemical, animal draw that I wield. I just showed you what was naturally going to happen, what had happened to you before... what happened to me..."

"Hand on just sec," Ron grumbled at the last. Sparks' voice had gone slightly quiet as he said those last four words.

"You mean to tell me," Ron said, comprehension dawning as he slowly stood to his feet, "that you did this, all of _this_, just because you have _issues_?"

"You can't even begin to understand my motivations, Mr. Stoppable."

"Do you know what they used to say about us, back in High School?" Ron said quietly, almost as if he was ignoring Sparks. "A lot of folks said that we wouldn't last a week. Do you know what they concluded, in the end?"

Then Ron looked at Sparks, and for the first time the older man comprehended Drakken's fear of the serious face.

"They figured that we were well nigh in love," Ron said quietly, "and _woe betide_ anyone who tried to get between us."

Sparks sensed his peril and did not wait. He immediately flew to the attack and launched an epic punch at Ron's nose.

Ron caught it with his right hand, bare centimeters away from its target, and his arm absorbed the impact without moving so much as a millimeter. They stood there for a bit, Sparks' arm twitching under the strain, and Ron's motionless, until Ron began to push against Sparks, who found his own arm moving towards him, and himself slowly shoved towards the stone wall.

"Yeah, I was an idiot," Ron said as he continued to push. "I should have trusted her more. Hey, I'm Ron Stoppable: acting without thinking is my trademark. But dude, you tried to break us up just 'cause some chick dumped you. That took some _intent_, you know what I'm saying? Intent that my stupidity can't excuse."

They were at the wall, and Ron held Sparks' against it.

"Now for the woe," Ron growled, as he drew his left fist back. Somehow he knew just where to hit, and how hard, to collapse Sparks' skull and drive portions of it into his brain. The earlier desire to cause Sparks pain had fled, now, he just wanted to kill the man.

"You are missing two things, Mr. Stoppable," Sparks said, again sound far, far too calm, and unnervingly smug.

"Huh?" Ron said, temporarily halting his strike.

"One: Drakken can repair his death ray."

_'Oh sh-'_

"Two," Sparks said with smile. "My pheromones have _range_.

"Ms. Possible," he called past Ron's shoulder, "I want you to stay there, please."

All thoughts of death fled from him as Ron turned away from Sparks and looked to see Kim, his Kim, just standing there in the middle of the room, the same look on her face as she'd had at Bueno Nacho. He saw Drakken make one last connection on the barrel assembly, and then move to the controls.

He could see Rufus moving as fast as possible towards the power cord, but somehow he knew that the naked mole rat would not be fast enough.

Ron released Sparks, his old vendetta forgotten, and he turned to run to Kim's aid.

"KP!" he yelled as he started to run. "Move, get out of there!"

Then a pair of arms grabbed him from behind, and looped up under and around his arms, and held him in place. He struggled, trying to get free.

"Dude, what is your problem?" Ron growled.

"KP! For God's sakes, _move it!_" he cried, not awaiting an answer from Sparks.

"Has to be done, Mr. Stoppable," Sparks said, sounding almost apologetic. "I didn't want to do it right in front of you, but you've forced my hand in this. Still, this way, you lose her, but you get to keep your illusions about love."

Ron relaxed, for a half second, and focused the Mystical Monkey Power on the tendons and muscles around his right knee. He would get one shot, and he would need to be able to run afterwards.

"Dude, you're still going on about that 'love doesn't exist' garbage?" Ron said quietly. "Then take a good look, Sparks..."

Ron rotated his right knee, with a greater speed than that joint was designed for, and swung his right foot up behind him, so that it crushed Sparks' genitals against his backside.

Sparks released him with a huff of pain. Ron whirled and felled him with a haymaker to the jaw. Then he ran towards Kim, faster than he had ever run in his life, for the desperation of love moved him.

"...'Cause you're about to see what _love really looks like_."

* * *

It was as if a fog had descended around her, a fog that blocked out everything else. She could not see through it, and it clouded her mind so that she could not comprehend anything save through the filters of the pheromones. She _saw_ Drakken working on the death ray, recharging it and aiming it towards her, but her mind did not perceive the danger.

All that was there was the haze of the pheromones, and the command of Phillip Sparks.

Yet, still a part of her resisted, and gained internal voice.

_'Move, Possible.'_

_'But... but he told me stay here... maybe he'll be with me if I stay here...'_

_'That's the pheromones talking, you silly girl.'_

_'Pheromones?'_

_'Yes, pheromones. Remember, the chemicals he uses to make you think you 'love' him, to make you forget Ron?'_

"KP! Move, get out of there!"

_'Ron...'_

_'Yes, Ron. The man who's been by your side since you were little? The man who's saved you on more than one occasion, including this one? The man you really love.'_

_'But, Phillip...'_

_'Is false.'_

"KP! For God's sakes, _move it!_"

_'That voice...'_

_'That voice is RON, you stupid, silly girl. This is all a trick, what you feel isn't real. Sparks is trying to keep us here, so Drakken can kill us. Now wake up and move, before Drakken gets the death ray on target!'_

_'But...'_

_'Listen to Ron. Picture him. Remember the man you love.'_

_'Ron...'_

Blond hair.

_'Ron.'_

Brown eyes.

_'RON!'_

A heart worth more than the treasures of a thousand kings, which was given to her, and to her alone.

In that moment Kim cut through the fog, and it stymied her no more. It was still there, an oppressive force at the back of her mind, yet it would no longer affect her; the magic had lost its power when she learned it's nature. Indeed, it was as if she had stuck her head through the border of a fog bank, and could finally perceive her surroundings without interference.

Some things, as Dr. Greg had said, were indeed far stronger than basic chemistry.

What she saw was Drakken's grin of triumph as he pressed the firing stud on the controls. For the second time that night a green light issued forth from the barrel of the death ray, and for the second time it carried it's issuance of death towards Kim Possible.

She froze, and stared on in fear. Then, there came to her a noise.

What she heard, above the whine of the power supplies and and the buzz of capacitors and transformers, was the sound of running feet. Then a white and blue figure, crowned with golden hair, interposed himself between Kim Possible and the death ray.

For the second time that night, the beam was interrupted by Ron Stoppable.

* * *

He had brought his shield up just before the impact of the beam, but it failed after just a few brief moments, and then there was nothing between him and death ray. It caught him full in the chest, but he did not allow himself to be moved. Instead he had brought his arms up, in a cruciform pose, so he could catch as much of the beam as possible.

Green fire coruscated around and over him; it criss-crossed his back; it flowed over his shaking arms; it caused his hair to stand on end. Pain, unlike anything he had ever felt before, filled him, and his entire body shook from the agony of it. The ferret claws began to extend and retract at random, as the energy of the death ray began overloaded the battle suit.

His arms came down, and he clutched them to his chest, as he fought simply to keep standing.

Then his back arched, his arms fell to his sides, and an anguished scream issued forth from his mouth, one which was heretofore only known in the deepest portions of the torments of Hades.

Suddenly the scream was stilled, and Ron fell silent as the beam shut down. There was no longer strength in his legs, nor power in his body, and his body brushed against Kim as he fell, lifeless, to the floor.

* * *

She had only been able to watch. At first she had flinched and turned away, for the impact of the death ray against the shield had produced a bright light, one that she could not stand to look at. Then it faded, and all she could do was watch as the green fire slew her Ron.

_Then _the fog fully lifted, and troubled her no more.

He fell against her, and she was too shocked to catch him. She felt him slip past her, his head and shoulder brushing against her chest and arms, and then she heard his body hit the floor with a boom. She looked down, and saw this eyes were wide open and starring, and his face was frozen and contorted in agony. Steam issued from his mouth, off of his skin, and from the rivers of tears that criss-crossed his cheeks.

There was a smell, too, one that was similar to the last time she had tried to cook something.

Even Rufus, who had been racing towards the wall to unplug the death ray, but had not quite been fast enough, could only stand and stare. The valiant naked mole rat hung his head in shame and sorrow.

Then Kim's mind caught up with her eyes.

"Ron..." she sobbed, and knelt, and reached a tremulous hand towards his face. Even through the suit she could feel the warmth of his skin, though it strangely was not discolored. A wordless sob escaped her as she stroked his hair and grabbed shoulders.

"Ron, please... you can't..." she whispered as she shook him.

A scream built itself in her chest, and began to work its way towards her mouth... but it was cut off, and died at her throat, by the sound of a cold laugh.

"So that's it, then," Drakken crowed from his place at the controls. "It's just you and me, Kim Possible. No more sidekicks to shield you, no more partners, no more tricks... and I have the death ray!"

"Drakken..." Kim growled, and rose to her feet, and stepped over Ron, and placed herself between the death ray and his body. For the first time in her life she did not care if she lived or died, all that she wanted was to be able, before death came, to take Drakken with her.

For his part, Drakken was too busy exulting to realize his true peril. Indeed, a serious and angry Kim Possible was something that he was already quite used to; as such, it did elicit from him the same brand of terror that Ron's serious face did.

"Aw, how sweet, angry for the fallen lover," Drakken sneered. "Don't worry, Kim Possible: just as soon as the batteries recharge, I will use this death ray to send you to join him! BWA-HA-HA-HA-huh-wha?"

Kim did not know what had made him stop. For a moment she thought it was the fact that she was poised to leap towards him and remove his entrails with her bare hands. Then she realized that he was looking _past_ her... and that she could feel something around her foot. She turned to look.

There was a hand.

Ron's hand.

Tightly grasping her ankle.

His eyes were closed and his mouth was shut, though pain was still graven upon his features. His breaths were deep and shuddering, as even that life-sustaining gesture wracked him with new pain. Even so she watch as the arm which grabbed her twitched, and Ron Stoppable began to pull himself across the ground.

He went as far as that could take him, and then he reached out with his left arm and clung to the ground, and began to drag himself forward again. Each movement was accompanied by little whimpers of pain, yet he gritted his teeth against it, and shut his eyes against the summoned tears. He moved as far as the left arm would take him, and then he reached out again with his right arm, and slowly he repeated that process until he was once again between Kim and Drakken.

A faint, very faint, blue glow surrounded him.

Then he drew both arms towards his head, balled his fists, and pressed them against the hard floor. With a groan that escaped even through his gritted teeth he then began to draw his legs forward, a single inch at a time, until they were bent beneath him, then he raised himself up on his arms, until he rested upon his hands and knees.

Ron paused for a moment in order to catch his breath and build his strength. Sweat and tears, and a little bit of blood, poured from his body, and puddled on the floor beneath him.

The blue glow began to intensify.

He drew his right leg up under him, until the knee pointed forward and his right foot was planted on the ground. From that base he stood up, with a great moan and many grunts of anguish, until at last he was on his feet, though not yet at his full height: his back was arched forward, his shoulders were slumped, and his head hung down. He stood that way, for a moment, and slowly caught his breath.

"The way... to Kim Possible..." he said slowly and in between breaths, and his voice shook with each syllable.

Then he drew himself to his full height; his back was straight, his shoulders slumped no more; his head was held high, and proud, and defiant; and the blue glow flared to a final brightness and then dissipated.

"Is. Through. _Me,_" he finished, his voice enraged, and full of tears and pain and a steady determination. He stood there, in spite of death, for he had been moved.

Love had moved him to run to Kim, and throw himself before the fire.

Love had moved him to stand.

Love moved him to _live_.

Then his fists were clenched, and he arrayed them at his side as if for war; and his eyes opened, and he turned his countenance towards Dr. Drakken.

* * *

Drakken recoiled from the horror of the eyes, from the terrible gaze of that face, and he stumbled and fell away from the controls in jelly-legged terror.

This was not the serious face.

This was worse.

This was as if all the armies of Heaven and all the legions of Hell had put aside their ancient feud, joined forces, were coming after Drakken himself, and their portal into this mortal realm was through the eyes of Ron Stoppable.

In an abstract, detached portion of his mind, Drakken was suddenly very glad that he hadn't had much to eat that day.

He was struck dumb, and nerveless, and stood there frozen until his attention was grabbed a whistle from the death ray. He turned his head to look, and there sat a very serious looking naked mole rat.

"Eff you," Rufus squeaked, and then he used the controls to swing the death ray around and clobber Drakken upside the head.

* * *

Ron watched Drakken fall, and then he let his legs go slack and allowed himself to fall backwards. This time, though, Kim was there to catch him. This she did, and she propped him up, and held him tight, wrapping her arms around his chest and burying her face in his hair.

"Ron, oh Ron," she gasped, unsure if she should cry or laugh, and ultimately choosing to do a combination of both. "I thought you'd..."

"Hey, don't you know, KP," Ron said quietly, with a pained laugh, as he reached one hand up and clasped it to one of her own, "that 'love is as strong as death'?

"Still," he continued, his voice clearly pained, "I _don't_ recommend testing that..."

She did laugh, finally, and she caressed him with her free hand. Then they heard a groan from their left, and they turned their heads, and watched as Sparks was trying to pick himself up from the ground. They looked at each other for a moment.

"Can you stand?" Kim whispered.

"I... I think so."

"Okay," she said, and let him go, but not without slowly drawing her fingers across his chest and shoulders. "I'll be back in a second, gotta take care of something."

She turned and walked over to where Sparks was lying on his hands and knees.

"Just in case you didn't notice, Romeo," she said lightly as he looked up at her, "there's a lot more to love than that chemistry garbage of yours. Now, I'm sorry you never found that..."

She reached down, and picked him up by the collar of his shirt. He was too weak to protest.

"But that's really no excuse."

Then she punched him into a wall. She turned to look at Ron, who smiled at her weakly and raised a shaking hand in a thumbs up gesture.

"Boo-yah," he whispered, and then his face changed, and he looked as if he was about to throw up, but an issuance of blood came from his mouth rather than vomit, and Ron began to fall. She ran to him, and caught him, but he could not stand any longer, so she knelt, and gently cradled his head in her lap; she held him in place with her right hand, and stroked his hair with her left. His eyes were closed.

"Ron," she said desperately, "please hold on, Ron, please... I love you, please..."

"KP," he croaked, and opened his eyes and looked up at her. "KP... I'm sorry... forgive me..."

"Ron Stoppable, if you are about to apologize for dying, then so help me-"

"No," he said, shaking his head. "I'm sorry... for how I acted."

"Ron, it's-"

"No, KP, I shoulda had more faith in you! It's just... I saw that picture... and Bueno Nacho, and... and I got scared that you were going to lock me in that closet again so you could dance with Mankey, that you'd leave my treehouse again so you could talk with Erik, and... that you wouldn't be _here_ anymore, and I'd be without _you_, and... Kim, I'm so very, very sorry... please, forgive me..."

He was crying; so was she, and when her tears fell they mingled upon his lips.

"Ron..." she began, "let me tell you something... that girl, the one who locked you in that closet, the one who didn't think you were boyfriend material, the one who left you to chase 'the perfect guy'? She's dead, Ron. She died that night in Bueno Nacho Headquarters, when what she thought was perfect turned out to be a lie, and then turned on her. There's just me, now: Kim Possible, the girl who can do anything.

"Even, especially, love a sweet little goofball like you," she said, and smiled through her tears. "So yes, Ron, I forgive you. I'll always forgive you, no matter what you do.. and I'll always love you, no matter what."

Ron smiled, and looked up at her with shining eyes. Hers shined back at him, their glitter only enhanced by their tears.

"So," she continued with a sniff, "can you forgive me?"

"For what?" he asked, quizzically.

"For locking you in that closet in the first place, for all the times I tried to deny the fact that you were the best man I've ever met."

For a moment he was about to protest, but then he smiled, and nodded, and tried to reach up and touch her face, but found that had had not the strength for it. So he reach up and grasped her right hand with his own, and gave it a weak little squeeze.

"Water under the bridge, KP," he whispered, and so it was. Suddenly the air around them was clear of something that they hadn't even known was there. They would never speak of such things again.

"I'm kinda tired, KP," Ron said after a moment. He tried to smile at her, but it didn't really work, for his teeth were stained red with blood, and his face was still twisted from the pain. Still, he was so very comfortable there, her lap was so soft, and restive, and he was so very tired, that he let his head roll to one side, and he let his eyes close.

"No, Ron, you have to stay awake..."

"Nah, I think I'll take a nap," he said sleepily. "You gonna be here when I wake up, KP?"

"You bet," she said quietly, her voice tremulous.

"Coolio," he whispered, and surrendered to sleep.

She did not know how long it was that she knelt there like that, with Ron asleep in her lap, and she continued to stroke his hair and beg him to hold on, to stay alive. It could have been minutes, or seconds, or even days. All she knew was that after a time there came a sudden rush of noise and dust, and then one of the walls simply wasn't there any more, and the front third of a hypersonic jet was settling itself into the gap.

She clung to Ron as she heard the sound of someone rushing towards her, and the sound of another moving about the room. The one coming towards her, she realized dimly, was her mother, who had a small medical kit out and was checking Ron's vitals and asking her what had happened. The other sound, her mind told her, was that of her father, binding the three unconscious foes with flexi-cuffs.

Then her mother tried to pick Ron up, and was explaining that they needed to get him onto the jet and to a hospital, but Kim refused to let him go, and instead clung even tighter. Then she felt a hand rest on her shoulder.

"Kimmie-cub," her father said quietly. "It's okay, it's going to be okay."

"Daddy?"

"Yes. Don't worry, Kimmie-cub," he said, as he gently slid her arm off of Ron and slid his own up under the young man. "He's going to be all right."

This snapped Kim out of it, and she allowed her father to pick Ron up.

"Hang on, Ronald," James Timothy Possible whispered as he carried Ron to the ship, "I've got you, son. I've got you."

* * *

They arrived at Middleton Hospital a half-hour later, and Ron was quickly wheeled into emergency surgery. Wade and the Stoppables (Nana was at the house, watching the tweebs) met Kim and the Possibles in the waiting area, where Wade explained that it had been he, having seen the data feed from Ron's suit simply stop, and the feed from Kim's show signs of extreme stress, had directed the Possibles to make their entrance. At least, he tried to explain that, but Kim simply hugged him before he could finish, and Wade quickly shut up and returned the hug, and said no more.

There wasn't much left to say.

The same was repeated with Ron's parents, except that Kim made it a point to explain to them that, whatever happened, Ron had acted to save her, and that he had behaved himself like a hero should.

Rufus, for his part, had not left Kim's shoulder since they'd boarded the plane.

Then there were no more words left, and all they could do was wait. For hours they sat, and paced, and worried, and prayed, until at last, well after two in the morning, the doctor who had been working on Ron opened the door and came in. Kim stood and looked at him, barely able to hope.

He was smiling.

"It took a bit of work," he said, "but he's going to make it."

Noise. Cheers. There came an eruption of joy and hugging which filled the whole room, and caught up all present, save the doctor... and Kim.

Kim stood still, in the middle of it all, utterly unmoving and nonreactive save for the rivers of tears that flowed down her cheeks. The fear that built within her was suddenly replaced by a relief and a joy so powerful and profound that it physically hurt, and could only find release in simple, quiet tears of joy. Then her mother was behind her, and she wrapped an arm around Kim's shoulder, and Kim grasped at her hand, and finally her heart found expression.

There are no words that can be ascribed to the cry that Kim uttered that day; it simply _was_, and expressed a joy that man's tongues cannot even begin to tell.

"Can... can I see him?" she asked, after a time had passed. The doctor nodded, and led them all to the room where Ron was resting. He lay there upon a bed, his face peaceful, the sheets drawn up to his chest, which rose and fell with his steady breath. An IV dripped fluids into his bloodstream.

There was a single chair to the right of the bed, and Kim walked over and took it, and brought it to his side. She sat there and then took his right hand in her own, and silently stroked his hair and face with her left.

After a time, the doctor cleared his throat.

"I hate to say this," he began, "but it's well past visiting hours, and-"

Kim looked at him, her eyes neutral, and she raised her left hand away from Ron and towards the doctor, and then she formed the arm into something large, blunt, and quite clearly medieval.

"Go ahead," she said quietly. "Move me. I _dare_ you."

"-and I'll just go and get the rest of you some chairs, then?" the doctor amended, not missing a beat.

"Yeah," Mr. Dr. Possible replied. "That'd be great..."

* * *

Morning came, and with it the warmth of the sun. The heat of the orange light, as it cascaded upon her red hair, stirred her to awake. Her left left arm was curled up on the bed beside her beloved, and she was bent over and resting her head upon it. She figured that she'd been like that for a few hours, at least, but couldn't say for sure, as she had no clue when she'd fallen asleep.

There was something else, though, something besides the sun that had stirred her. In fact, it felt like something moving up and down the fingers of her right hand...

She was fully awake then, and raised her head up, and saw a pair of large, tired brown eyes staring at her, their gaze full of love.

"Mornin', KP," he whispered. "That can't be good for your posture."

"RON!" she cried, and flung himself upon him. As best she could she wrapped her arms around him and held him tightly; as best he could he placed his arms around her, and rubbed her back and stroked her hair.

"KP..."

"Ron," she whispered to him, "I'm _here_."

His hands stopped moving, and he gently tightened his hug and pressed her to him. She felt his cheek stretch as he smiled, and then he replied to her with five words of assurance.

"I knew you would be."

END CHAPTER 5

THE END

SDG

* * *

Author's notes:

Well, that's it. Sorry this one took so long, but I managed to stump myself at a couple of points in the writing, and it took a while to work past that. I also apologize for the length.

With that being said, I'd like to thank campy, JMAN2.0, MrDrP, surforst, Taechunsa, G-go, Willk1989, Brimmstone, Classic Cowboy, JPMod, Dillymac, K-R-4-E-V-A, Jawelik, little-n-lost, RamaFan, aimtbj, jasminevr, and mattb3671 for reading and reviewing. I wish I could give responses to all of your comments (and/or discussion points) here, but I am running somewhat out of space. However, there is one I'd like to address...

Surforst - The answer to your question about my use of Venus is "none of the above". There is a meaning behind it, it wasn't just gratuitous imagery, but what it means is not something that I am prepared to reveal right now. All will be explained in time, though.

Anyway, while y'all are at it... keep an eye on an "author" called GWA. This is actually a collaborative effort between G-Go (he of "Reunion" and "Union" fame), Captainkodak1 (he of "The Lotus Bloom", "Four Friends", and the thousand-and-one humorous and/or sexy vignettes), MrDrP (he of "An Epic Sitch" and "Nacho Boy and Dragon Lady"), Zaratan (he of the "Bonnie's Curse" story arc and universe), mattb3671 (the King of Smuff), and, for some odd reason, myself. We've got something fun coming up, so keep your eyes pealed.

And again, thanks to my Lord Jesus Christ. I hope that You are honored in this.


	6. Epilogue

_There are more things in heaven and on earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy. - Hamlet Act I, Scene V._

**Epilogue**

The Englishman called them to order. Not that this was difficult, as all that the American and the Asian had in common was their contempt for each other, and their fear of the Englishman, so there was no real small talk for him to cut through. Some would call this an unstable and inherently dangerous dynamic but the Englishman, as head of the Occulins Tribunal, found it... useful to his designs.

And amusing.

"So," he began, "who would wish to begin?"

"I believe that my esteemed colleague should give the report, my Lord," the Asian replied smoothly. "Sparks, after all, was _his_ recruit."

"Indeed he was. Well, my friend?" said the Englishman, turning his attention to the American, who squirmed in his seat for a moment, but then steeled himself.

"Yes, Sparks was _my_ recruit, my Lord," the American said, directing a glare at the Asian. "And, yes, he did fail in his primary mission. However, I wish to remind you both that, before the battle at the lair, he _did_ transmit to us the Index to Drakken's Legacy."

"An Index," the Asian interjected angrily, "which Global Justice _also_ claimed that very night!"

"My Panther teams are in pursuit of the Legacy, and will deal with Global Justice when the time comes," the Englishman said, waving a hand. "The two of you need not concern yourselves with that topic."

"Index or no, my Lord," the Asian continued, "the point remains that Sparks failed, as my esteemed colleague has admitted, in his primary mission: the elimination of Kim Possible! And now she not only remains at large, but at _Prescot's_ school!"

"Good god, man, are you _still_ going on about that?" the American groaned. "If there was anything hidden at BAU, I would have found it by now."

"We still don't know what happened to the _Nightingale_ and its cargo, save that it sailed westward under an unknown Captain and with an unnamed crew," the Asian continued, undaunted. "You also know the stories they tell about Prescot, how he found his wealth, and if there is any connection-"

"Those stories," the Englishman interrupted, "are what the Yankees would call a 'tall tale', stories invented by peasant farmers who'd read one too many penny dreadfuls, and wished to elevate their new hero to 'larger than life' status. Nothing more."

"If it will put my esteemed colleague's mind to rest, my Lord," the American said before the Asian could snap off another retort, "I have something else to say.

"You both know that, a few years back, I revealed some of our innermost secrets to Sparks."

"An inadvisable move," the Asian snarled.

"Perhaps," the American allowed, "but I believe that it has proved useful in this case."

He reached up to finger his lapel pin, a pyramid, the top third of which floated above the rest and contained an all-seeing eye.

"Upon his first meeting with Possible, Sparks wore his own pin."

"He _what?_"

"It was a calculated risk. Possible got a good look at the symbol, but didn't make any specific note of it, according to Sparks. Of course, he _was _starting to pour on the pheromones at that point, but not the degree that would affect higher cognitive functions."

"In other words?" the Asian asked, settling back into his chair.

"In other words, even _if_ Prescot knew something about us, and left that information at BAU, then Possible _hasn't found it yet_."

"And even if she does," the Englishman interjected, with a tone that indicated the subject would close, "what is it to us? If she discovers why this symbol is _both_ the Eye of Providence and the Evil Eye, then how will she treat that knowledge? If she finds out what Eduard and the Templars brought back from Jerusalem, how is she to view _that_ story?

"What are we, the Occulins, to her, gentlemen, but myths and faerie tales?"

He looked them both in the eye, until it was clear that they accepted the settlement of the topic, even if the Asian did so but grudgingly.

"Now, then," he continued briskly, "with the Index in our possession, and with Dr. Drakken, Dr. Dementor, and Lord Fiske incarcerated, we have both the tools we need and have removed all competing factors to our plans. We will need to decide which pieces of Legacy tech to dispense to our terrorist and revolutionary clients, and which to keep for ourselves, but I believe that..."


End file.
